A  PEOPLE'S  MAN 


"  We  have  always  believed  that  wiute  roses  bring  happiness." 
Page  67. 


A  Peoples  Man 


By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 

Author  of  "The  Tempting  of  Tavernake,"  "The  Mis- 
chief   Maker,"    "Peter    Ruff    and    the 
Double  Four,"  Etc. 


With  Four  Illustrations  by  ,- 
EDMUND   FREDERICK 


A.  L  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 

114-120  East  Twenty-third  Street     -       -      New  York 

PUBLISHED  BY  ARRANGEMENT  WITH  LITTLF,  BROWN  &  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1914, 
J3r  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND 

All  rights  reserved 


SRLF 

URL 


The  characters  in  this  story 
are  entirely  imaginary. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

CHAPTER  I 

"  Maraton  has  come !  Maraton !  Maraton  is 
here!" 

Across  Soho,  threading  his  way  with  devilish  inge- 
nuity through  mazes  of  narrow  streets,  scattering 
with  his  hooter  little  groups  of  gibbering,  swarthy 
foreigners,  Aaron  Thurnbrein,  bent  double  over  his 
ancient  bicycle,  sped  on  his  way  towards  the  Com- 
mercial Road  and  eastwards.  With  narrow  cheeks 
smeared  with  dust,  yellow  teeth  showing  behind  his 
parted  lips,  through  which  the  muttered  words  came 
with  uneven  vehemence,  ragged  clothes,  a  ragged 
handkerchief  around  his  neck,  a  greasy  cap  upon  his 
head  —  this  messenger,  charged  with  great  tidings, 
proclaimed  himself,  by  his  visible  existence,  one  of 
the  submerged  clinging  to  his  last  spar,  fighting  still 
with  hands  which  beat  the  air,  yet  carrying  the 
undaunted  light  of  battle  in  his  blazing  eyes,  deep- 
sunken,  almost  cavernous,  the  last  refuge,  perhaps, 
of  that  ebbing  life.  Drops  of  perspiration  were 
upon  his  forehead,  his  breath  came  hard  and  pain- 
fully. Before  he  had  reached  his  destination,  one 
could  almost  hear  the  rattle  in  his  throat.  He  even 
staggered  as  at  last  he  dropped  from  his  bicycle  and, 


2  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

wheeling  it  across  a  broad  pavement,  left  it  reclining 
against  a  box  of  apples  exposed  in  front  of  a  small 
greengrocer's  shop. 

The  neighbourhood  was  ugly  and  dirty,  the  shop 
was  ugly  and  dirty.  The  interior  into  which  he 
passed  was  dark,  odoriferous,  bare  of  stock,  poverty- 
smitten.  A  woman,  lean,  hard-featured,  with  thin 
grey  hair  disordered  and  unkempt,  looked  up  quickly 
at  his  coming  and  as  quickly  down  again.  Her  face 
was  perhaps  too  lifeless  to  express  any  emotion  what- 
soever, but  there  might  have  been  a  shade  of  disap- 
pointment in  the  swift  withdrawal  of  her  gaze.  A 
customer  would  have  been  next  door  to  a  miracle, 
but  hope  dies  hard. 

"  You !  "  she  muttered.  "  What  are  you  bothering 
about?  " 

"  I  want  David,"  Aaron  Thurnbrein  panted.  "  I 
have  news!  Is  he  behind?" 

The  woman  moved  away  to  let  him  pass. 

"  He  is  behind,"  she  answered,  in  a  dull,  lifeless 
tone.  "  Since  you  took  him  with  you  to  Bermondsey, 
he  does  no  work.  What  does  it  matter?  We  starve 
a  little  sooner.  Take  him  to  another  meeting,  if  you 
will.  I'd  rather  you  taught  him  how  to  steal.  There's 
rest  in  the  prisons,  at  least." 

Aaron  Thurnbrein  brushed  past  her,  inattentive, 
unlistening.  She  was  not  amongst  those  who 
counted.  He  pushed  open  an  ill-fitting  door,  whose 
broken  glass  top  was  stuffed  with  brown  paper. 
The  room  within  was  almost  horrible  in  its  meagre- 
ness.  The  floor  was  uncarpeted,  the  wall  unpapered. 
In  a  three-legged  chair  drawn  up  to  the  table,  with 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  3 

paper  before  him  and  a  pencil  in  his  hand,  sat  David 
Ross.  He  looked  up  at  the  panting  intruder,  only  to 
glower. 

"What  do  you  want,  boy?"  he  asked  pettishly. 
"  I  am  at  work.  I  need  these  figures.  I  am  to  speak 
to-night  at  Poplar." 

"  Put  them  away ! "  Aaron  Thurnbrein  cried. 
"  Soon  you  and  I  will  be  needed  no  more.  A  greater 
than  we  have  known  is  here  —  here  in  London !  " 

The  older  man  looked  up,  for  a  moment,  as  though 
puzzled.  Then  a  light  broke  suddenly  across  his 
face,  a  light  which  seemed  somehow  to  become  re- 
flected in  the  face  of  the  starveling  youth. 

"  Maraton !  "  he  almost  shrieked. 

"  Maraton ! "  the  other  echoed.  "  He  is  here  in 
London ! " 

The  face  of  the  older  man  twitched  with  excite- 
ment. 

"  But  they  will  arrest  him !  " 

"  If  they  dared,"  Aaron  Thurnbrein  declared 
harshly,  "  a  jnillion  of  us  would  tear  him  out  of 
prison.  But  they  will  not.  Maraton  is  too  clever. 
America  has  not  even  asked  for  extradition.  For  our 
sakes  he  keeps  within  the  law.  He  is  here  in  Lon- 
don !  He  is  stripped  for  the  fight !  " 

David  Ross  rose  heavily  to  his  feet.  One  saw 
then  that  he  was  not  really  old.  Starvation  and  ill- 
health  had  branded  him  with  premature  age.  He  was 
not  thin  but  the  flesh  hung  about  him  in  folds.  His 
cheeks  were  puffy;  his  long,  hairy  eyebrows  drooped 
down  from  his  massive  forehead.  There  was  the 
look  about  him  of  a  strong  man  gone  to  seed. 


4  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  They  will  be  all  around  him  like  flies  over  a  car- 
cass ! "  he  muttered. 

"  Mr.  Foley  —  Foley  —  the  Prime  Minister  — 
sent  for  him  directly  he  arrived,"  Aaron  Thurnbrein 
announced.  "  He  is  to  see  him  to-night  at  his  own 
house  in  Downing  Street.  It  makes  no  difference." 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  "  the  other  remarked  despondently. 
"  The  pages  of  history  are  littered  with  the  bodies 
of  strong  men  who  have  opened  their  lips  to  the  poi- 
soned spoon." 

Aaron  Thurnbrein  spat  upon  the  floor. 

"  There  is  but  one  Maraton,"  he  cried  fervently. 
"  There  has  been  but  one  since  the  world  was  shaped. 
He  is  come,  and  the  first  step  towards  our  deliverance 
is  at  hand." 

The  older  man,  whose  trembling  fingers  still  rested 
upon  the  sheets  of  paper,  looked  at  his  visitor  curi- 
ously. 

"  You  are  a  Jew,"  he  muttered.  "  Why  do  you 
worship  Maraton?  He  is  not  of  your  race." 

The  young  man's  gesture  was  almost  sublime. 

"Jew  or  Christian  —  what  does  it  matter?"  he 
demanded.  "  I  am  a  Jew.  What  has  my  religion 
done  for  me?  Nothing!  I  am  a  free  man  in  my 
thoughts.  I  am  one  of  the  oppressed.  Men  or 
women,  Jews  or  Christians,  infidels  or  believers  — 
what  does  it  matter?  We  are  those  who  have  been 
broken  upon  the  wheel.  Deliverance  for  us  will  come 
too  late.  We  fight  for  those  who  will  follow.  It  is 
Maraton  who  points  towards  the  light.  It  is  Maraton 
whose  hand  shall  press  the  levers  which  shall  set  the 
kingdoms  rocking.  I  tell  you  that  our  own  country, 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  5 

even,  may  bite  the  dust  —  a  conqueror's  hand  lay 
heavy  upon  her  throat ;  and  yet,  no  matter.  Through 
the  valley  of  fire  and  blood  and  pestilence  —  one 
must  pass  through  these  to  the  great  white  land." 

"  Amen ! "  David  Ross  cried  fervently.  "  The 
gift  is  upon  you  to-day,  Aaron.  Amen !  " 

The  two  stood  together  for  a  moment,  speechless, 
carried  away  out  of  themselves.  Then  the  door  was 
suddenly  opened.  The  woman  stood  there,  sour  and 
withered;  behind  her,  a  hard-featured  man,  official, 
malevolent. 

"  We  are  for  the  streets ! "  the  woman  exclaimed 
harshly.  "  He's  got  the  order." 

"  Three  pounds  thirteen  or  out  you  go,"  the  man 
announced,  pushing  his  way  forward.  "  Here's  the 
paper." 

David  Ross  looked  at  him  as  one  awakened  from 
a  dream. 

"  Evicted ! " 

"  And  d  —  d  well  time,  too !  "  the  newcomer  con- 
tinued. "  You've  had  all  the  chance  in  the  world. 
How  do  you  expect  to  make  a  living,  fiddling  about 
here  all  day  with  pencil  and  paper,  and  talking  Social- 
ist rot  at  night?  Leave  that  chair  alone  and  be  off, 
both  of  you." 

They  glanced  despairingly  towards  Aaron  Thurn- 
brein.  He  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and 
exposed  them  with  a  little  helpless  gesture.  The 
coins  he  produced  were  of  copper.  The  official 
looked  at  them  and  around  the  place  with  a  grin  of 
contempt. 

"  Cut  it  short,"  he  ordered.     "  Clear  out." 


6  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  There's  my  bicycle,"  Aaron  Thurnbrein  said 
slowly. 

They  all  looked  at  him  —  the  woman  and  the  man 
with  nervous  anxiety,  the  official  with  a  flicker  of 
interest.  Aaron  Thurnbrein  drew  a  little  sigh. 
The  bicycle  had  been  earned  by  years  of  strenuous 
toil.  It  was  almost  a  necessity  of  his  existence. 

"  Aaron's  bicycle,"  David  Ross  muttered.  "  No, 
no !  That  must  not  be.  Let  us  go  to  the  streets." 

But  the  woman  did  not  move.  Already  the  young 
man  had  wheeled  it  into  the  shop. 

"Take  it,"  he  insisted.  "What  does  it  matter? 
Maraton  is  here !  " 

Away  again,  this  time  on  foot,  along  the  sun-baked 
pavements,  through  courts  and  alleys  into  a  narrow, 
busy  street  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Shoreditch.  He 
stopped  at  last  before  a  factory  and  looked  tenta- 
tively up  at  the  windows.  Through  the  opened  panes 
came  the  constant  click  of  sewing  machines,  the 
smell  of  cloth,  the  vision  of  many  heads  bent  over 
their  work.  He  stood  where  he  was  for  a  time  and 
watched.  The  place  was  like  a  hive  of  industry. 
Row  after  row  of  girls  were  there,  seated  side  by 
side,  round-shouldered,  bending  over  their  machines, 
looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  struggling 
to  keep  up  to  time  to  make  sure  of  the  wage  which 
was  life  or  death  to  them.  It  was  nothing  to  them 
that  above  the  halo  of  smoke  the  sky  was  blue;  or 
that  away  beyond  the  murky  horizon,  the  sun,  which 
here  in  the  narrow  street  seemed  to  have  drawn  all 
life  from  the  air,  was  shining  on  yellow  cornfields 
bending  before  the  west  wind.  Here  there  was  sim- 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  7 

ply  an  intolerable  heat,  a  smell  of  fish  and  a  smell 
of  cloth. 

Aaron  Thurnbrein  crossed  the  street,  entered  the 
unimposing  doorway  and  knocked  at  the  door  which 
led  into  the  busy  but  unassuming  offices.  A  small 
boy  threw  open  a  little  glass  window  and  looked  at 
him  doubtfully. 

"  I  don't  know  that  you  can  see  Miss  Thurnbrein 
even  for  a  minute,"  he  declared,  in  answer  to  Aaron's 
confident  enquiry.  "  It's  our  busiest  time.  What 
do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  am  her  brother,"  Aaron  announced.  "  It  is 
most  important." 

The  boy  slipped  from  a  worn  stool  and  disap- 
peared. Presently  the  door  of  the  little  waiting-room 
was  suddenly  opened,  and  a  girl  entered. 

"  Aaron !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Has  anything  hap- 
pened? " 

Once  more  he  raised  his  head,  once  more  the  light 
that  flickered  in  his  face  transformed  him  into  some 
semblance  of  a  virile  man. 

*'  Maraton  is  here !     Maraton  has  arrived !  " 

The  light  flashed,  too,  for  a  moment  in  her  face, 
only  she,  even  before  it  came,  was  beautiful. 

"  At  last !  "  she  cried.  "  At  last !  Have  you  seen 
him,  Aaron  ?  Tell  me  quickly,  what  is  he  like  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  Aaron  replied.  "  To-night  they  say 
that  he  goes  first  to  visit  the  Prime  Minister.  He 
will  come  to  us  afterwards." 

"  It  is  great  news,"  she  murmured.  "  If  only  one 
could  see  him !  " 

The  office  boy  reappeared. 


8  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Guvnor  says  why  aren't  you  at  your  work,  Miss 
Thurnbrein,"  he  remarked,  as  he  climbed  on  to  his 
stool.  "  You  won't  get  through  before  closing  time, 
as  it  is." 

She  turned  reluctantly  away.  There  was  some- 
thing in  her  face  from  which  even  Aaron  could 
scarcely  remove  his  eyes. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  declared.  "  We  are  busy  here, 
and  so  many  of  the  girls  are  away  —  down  with  the 
heat,  I  suppose.  Thank  you  for  coming,  Aaron." 

"  I  would  like,"  he  answered,  "  to  walk  the  streets 
of  London  one  by  one,  and  stand  at  the  corners  and 
shout  to  the  passers-by  that  Maraton  has  come. 
Only  I  wonder  if  they  would  understand.  I  won- 
der!" 

He  passed  out  into  the  street  and  the  girl  returned 
to  her  work.  After  a  few  yards  he  felt  suddenly 
giddy.  There  was  a  little  enclosure  across  the  road, 
called  by  courtesy  a  playground  —  a  few  benches,  a 
dusty  space,  and  some  swings.  He  threw  himself 
into  a  corner  of  one  of  the  benches  and  closed  his 
eyes.  He  was  worn  out,  physically  exhausted.  Yet 
all  the  time  the  sense  of  something  wonderful  kept 
him  from  collapse.  Maraton  had  come! 


CHAPTER  II 

* 

Westward,  the  late  June  twilight  deepened  into  a 
violet  and  moonless  darkness.  The  lights  in  St. 
James's  Park  glittered  like  motionless  fireflies ;  a 
faint  wind  rustled  amongst  the  drooping  leaves  of 
the  trees.  Up  here  the  atmosphere  was  different. 
It  seemed  a  long  way  from  Shoreditch. 

Outside  the  principal  of  the  official  residences  in 
Downing  Street,  there  was  a  tented  passage-way  and 
a  strip  of  drugget  across  the  pavement.  Within,  the 
large  reception  rooms  were  crowded  with  men  and 
women.  There  was  music,  and  many  forms  of  enter- 
tainment were  in  progress;  the  popping  of  cham- 
pagne corks;  the  constant  murmur  of  cheerful  con- 
versation. The  Prime  Minister  was  giving  a  great 
political  reception,  and  men  and  women  of  every 
degree  and  almost  every  nationality  were  talking  and 
mingling  together.  The  gathering  was  necessarily 
not  select,  but  it  was  composed  of  people  who 
counted.  The  Countess  of  Grenside,  who  was  the 
Prime  Minister's  sister  and  the  head  of  his  household, 
saw  to  that. 

They  stood  together  at  the  head  of  the  staircase, 
a  couple  curiously  unlike  not  only  in  appearance  but 
in  disposition  and  tastes.  Lady  Grenside  was  tall 
and  fair,  almost  florid  in  complexion,  remarkably 
well-preserved,  with  a  splendid  presence  and  figure. 


io  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

She  had  been  one  of  the  beauties  of  her  day,  and  even 
now,  in  the  sixth  year  of  her  widowhood,  was  accounted 
a  remarkably  handsome  woman.  Mr.  Foley,  her 
brother,  was  also  tall,  but  gaunt  and  thin,  with  a  pro- 
nounced stoop.  His  grey  imperial  gave  him  an 
almost  foreign  appearance.  He  had  the  forehead 
of  a  philosopher  but  the  mouth  of  a  humourist.  His 
eyes,  shrewd  and  penetrating  —  he  wore  no  glasses 
although  he  was  nearly  sixty  years  of  age  —  were 
perhaps  his  best  feature. 

"  Tell  me,  my  dear  Stephen,"  she  asked,  as  the 
tide  of  incoming  guests  finally  ceased  and  they  found 
themselves  at  liberty,  "  why  are  you  looking  so  dis- 
turbed? It  seems  to  me  that  every  one  has  arrived 
who  ought  to  come,  and  judging  by  the  noise  they 
are  making,  every  one  is  thoroughly  enjoying  them- 
selves. Why  are  people  so  noisy  nowadays,  I 
wonder? " 

Mr.  Foley  smiled. 

"  What  an  observant  person  you  are !  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  there  was  just  one  guest  whom  I  was  par- 
ticularly anxious  to  see  here  to-night.  He  promised 
to  come,  but  so  far  I  am  afraid  that  he  has  not 
arrived." 

"  Not  that  awful  man  Maraton  ?  " 

He  nodded. 

**  No  use  calling  him  names,  Catharine,"  he  con- 
tinued grimly.  "  Maraton  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant problems  we  have  to  face  within  the  next 
few  weeks.  I  suppose  there  is  no  chance  of  his 
having  slipped  in  without  our  having  noticed  him?  " 

Lady  Grenside  shook  her  head. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  n 

*'  I  should  imagine  not.  I  am  quite  sure  that  I 
haven't  shaken  hands  to-night  with  any  one  who 
reminded  me  in  the  least  of  what  this  man  must  be. 
Very  likely  Elisabeth  will  discover  him  if  he  is  here. 
She  has  just  gone  off  on  one  of  her  tours  of  inspec- 
tion." 

Mr.  Foley  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  was,  after 
all,  a  philosopher. 

"  I  am  afraid  Elisabeth  won't  get  very  far,"  he 
remarked.  "  Carton  was  in  her  train,  and  Ellison 
and  Aubrey  weren't  far  behind.  She  is  really  quite 
wonderful.  I  never  in  all  my  life  saw  any  one  look 
so  beautiful  as  she  does  to-night." 

Lady  Grenside  made  a  little  grimace  as  she  laid 
her  fingers  upon  her  brother's  arm  and  pointed 
towards  an  empty  settee  close  at  hand. 

"  Beautiful,  yes,"  she  sighed,  "  but  oh,  so  diffi- 
cult!" 


Almost  at  that  moment,  Elisabeth  had  paused  on 
her  way  through  the  furthest  of  the  three  crowded 
rooms  —  and  Maraton,  happening  simultaneously  to 
glance  in  her  direction,  their  eyes  met.  They  were 
both  above  the  average  height,  so  they  looked  at  one 
another  over  the  heads  of  many  people,  and  in  both 
their  faces  was  something  of  the  same  expression  — 
the  faint  interest  born  of  a  relieved  monotony.  The 
girl  deliberately  turned  towards  him.  He  was  an 
unknown  guest  and  alone.  There  were  times  when 
her  duties  came  quite  easily. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  not  amusing  yourself," 


12  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

she  remarked,  with  some  faint  yet  kindly  note  of 
condescension  in  her  tone. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  he  answered,  his  eyebrows 
slightly  lifted.  "  I  certainly  am  not.  But  then  I 
did  not  come  here  to  amuse  myself." 

"  Indeed?  A  sense  of  duty  brought  you,  per- 
haps?" 

"  A  sense  of  duty,  beyond  a  doubt,"  the  man  as- 
sented politely. 

She  felt  like  passing  on  —  but  she  also  felt  like 
staying,  so  she  stayed. 

"  Cannot  I  help  you  towards  the  further  accom- 
plishment of  your  duty,  then?  "  she  enquired. 

He  looked  at  her  and  the  grim  severity  of  his  face 
was  lightened  by  a  smile. 

"  You  could  help  me  more  easily  to  forget  it,"  he 
replied. 

She  opened  her  lips,  hesitated  and  closed  them 
again.  Already  she  had  recognised  the  fact  that 
this  was  not  a  man  to  be  snubbed.  Neither  had  she, 
notwithstanding  her  momentary  irritation,  any  real 
desire  to  do  so. 

"  You  do  not  know  many  people  here  ?  " 

"  I  know  no  one,"  he  confessed. 

"  I  am  Elisabeth  Landon,"  she  told  him.  "  Mr. 
Foley  is  my  uncle.  My  mother  and  I  live  with  him 
and  always  help  him  to  entertain." 

"  Hence  your  interest  in  a  lonely  stranger,"  he 
remarked.  "  Please  have  no  qualms  about  me.  I 
am  always  interested  when  I  am  permitted  to  watch 
my  fellow  creatures,  especially  when  the  types  are 
novel  to  me." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  13 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly  for  a  moment.  As 
yet  she  had  not  succeeded  in  placing  him.  His  fea- 
tures were  large  but  well-shaped,  his  cheek-bones  a 
little  high,  his  forehead  massive,  his  deep-set  eyes 
bright  and  marvellously  penetrating.  He  had  a 
mouth  long  and  firm,  with  a  slightly  humorous  twist 
at  the  corners.  His  hair  was  black  and  plentiful. 
He  might  have  been  of  any  age  between  thirty-five 
and  forty.  His  limbs  and  body  were  powerful;  his 
head  was  set  with  the  poise  of  an  emperor.  His 
clothes  were  correct  and  well  worn,  he  was  entirely 
at  his  ease.  Yet  Elisabeth,  who  was  an  observant 
person,  looked  at  him  and  wondered.  He  would  have 
been  more  at  home,  she  thought,  out  in  the  storms 
of  life  than  in  her  uncle's  drawing-rooms.  Yet  what 
was  he?  He  lacked  the  trimness  of  the  soldier;  of 
the  debonair  smartness  of  the  modern  fighting  man 
there  was  no  trace  whatsoever  in  his  speech  or  appear- 
ance. The  politicians  who  were  likely  to  be  present 
she  knew.  What  was  there  left?  An  explorer,  per- 
haps, or  a  colonial.  Her  curiosity  became  imperious. 

"  You  have  not  told  me  your  name,"  she  reminded 
him. 

"  My  name  is  Maraton,"  he  replied,  a  little  grimly. 

"  You  —  Maraton !  " 

There  was  a  brief  silence  —  not  without  a  certain 
dramatic  significance  to  the  girl  who  stood  there 
with  slightly  parted  lips.  The  smooth  serenity  of 
her  forehead  was  broken  by  a  frown;  her  beautiful 
blue  eyes  were  troubled.  She  seemed  somehow  to 
have  dilated,  to  have  drawn  herself  up.  Her  air  of 
politeness,  half  gracious,  half  condescending,  had 


i4  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

vanished.  It  was  as  though  in  spirit  she  were  pre- 
paring for  battle. 

"  You  seem  to  have  heard  of  me,'*  he  remarked 
drily. 

"  Who  has  not  heard  of  you ! "  she  answered  in  a 
low  tone.  "  I  am  sorry.  You  have  made  me  break 
my  word." 

"  I?  " 

She  was  recovering  herself  now.  A  certain  icy 
aloofness  seemed  to  have  crept  into  her  manner.  Her 
head  was  held  at  a  different  angle.  Even  the  words 
seemed  to  leave  her  lips  differently.  Her  tone  was 
one  of  measured  indignation. 

"  Yes,  you !  When  Mr.  Foley  told  me  that  he  had 
asked  you  to  come  here  to-night,  I  vowed  that  I 
would  not  speak  to  you." 

"  A  perfectly  reasonable  decision,"  he  agreed, 
without  the  slightest  change  of  expression,  "  but  am 
I  really  to  be  blamed  for  this  unfortunate  incident? 
You  cannot  say  that  I  thrust  myself  upon  your 
notice." 

His  eyebrows  were  ever  so  slightly  uplifted.  She 
was  not  absolutely  sure  that  there  was  not  some- 
thing very  suggestive  of  amusement  in  his  deep-set 
eyes.  She  bit  her  lip.  Naturally  he  was  not  a  gen- 
tleman ! 

"  I  thought  that  you  were  a  neglected  guest,"  she 
explained  coldly.  "  I  do  not  understand  how  it  is 
that  you  have  managed  to  remain  undiscovered." 

He  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  I  made  my  entrance  with  the  others.  I  saw  a 
very  charming  lady  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  —  your 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  15 

mother,  I  believe  —  who  gave  me  her  fingers  and 
called  me  Mr.  Martin.  Your  uncle  shook  hands 
with  me,  looking  over  my  head  to  welcome  some  one 
behind.  I  passed  on  with  the  rest.  The  fault  re- 
mains, beyond  a  doubt,  with  your  majordomo  and 
my  uncommon  name." 

"  Since  I  have  discovered  you,  then,"  she  declared, 
"  you  had  better  let  me  take  you  to  my  uncle.  He 
has  been  looking  everywhere  for  you  for  the  last 
hour.  We  will  go  this  way." 

She  laid  the  extreme  tips  of  her  fingers  upon  his 
coat  sleeve.  He  glanced  down  at  them  for  a  mo- 
ment. Her  reluctance  was  evident. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  suggested  coolly,  "  we  should  make 
faster  progress  if  I  were  to  follow  you." 

She  took  no  further  notice  of  him  for  some  time. 
Then  very  suddenly  she  drew  him  to  one  side  out  of 
the  throng,  into  an  almost  empty  anteroom  —  a  dis- 
mal little  apartment  lined  with  shelves  full  of  blue 
books  and  Parliamentary  records. 

"  I  am  content  to  obey  my  guide,"  he  remarked, 
'*  but  why  this  abrupt  flight?  " 

She  hesitated.  Then  she  raised  her  eyes  and 
looked  at  him.  Perhaps  some  instinct  told  her  that 
the  truth  was  best. 

"  Because  Mr.  Culvain  was  in  that  crowd,"  she 
told  him.  "  Mr.  Culvain  has  been  looking  for  you 
everywhere.  It  is  only  to  see  you  that  he  came  here 
this  evening.  My  uncle  is  anxious  to  talk  with  you 
first." 

"  I  am  flattered,"  he  murmured,  smiling. 

"  I    think    that    you    should    be,"    she    asserted. 


i5  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Personally,  I  do  not  understand  my  uncle's  atti- 
tude." 

"  With  regard  to  me?  " 

"  With  regard  to  you." 

"  You  think,  perhaps,  that  I  should  not  be  per- 
mitted here  at  all  as  a  guest  ?  " 

"  I  do  think  that,"  she  replied,  looking  steadily 
into  his  eyes.  "  I  think  more  than  that.  I  think 
that  your  place  is  in  Sing  Sing  prison." 

The  corners  of  his  mouth  twitched.  His  amuse- 
ment maddened  her;  her  eyes  flashed.  Underneath 
her  white  satin  gown  her  bosom  was  rising  and  fall- 
ing quickly. 

He  became  suddenly  grave. 

"  Do  you  take  life  seriously,  Lady  Elisabeth  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Certainly,"  she  answered  firmly.  "  I  do  not 
think  that  human  life  is  a  thing  to  be  trifled  with. 
I  agree  with  the  Times." 

"  In  what  it  said  about  me?  " 

"Yes!" 

"  And  what  was  that?  It  is  neglectful  of  me,  I 
know,  but  I  never  see  the  Times." 

"  It  held  you  entirely  responsible  for  the  death 
of  those  poor  men  in  Chicago,"  she  told  him.  "  It 
named  you  as  their  murderer." 

"  A  very  sensible  paper,  the  Times,"  he  agreed. 
"  The  responsibility  was  entirely  mine." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in  horror. 

"  You  can  dare  to  admit  that  here  —  to  me  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  answered  calmly.  "  So  long  as 
it  is  my  conviction,  why  not  proclaim  it?  I  love 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  17 

the  truth.  It  is  the  one  virtue  which  has  never  been 
denied  me." 

Her  eyes  flashed.  She  made  no  effort  whatever 
to  conceal  her  detestation. 

"  And  they  let  you  go  —  those  Americans  ?  "  she 
cried.  "  I  do  not  understand !  " 

"  There  are  probably  many  other  considerations 
in  connection  with  the  affair  which  you  do  not  under- 
stand," he  observed.  "  However  —  they  had  their 
opportunity.  I  walked  the  streets  openly,  I  travelled 
to  New  York  openly,  I  took  my  steamer  ticket  to 
England  under  my  own  name.  The  papers,  I  be- 
lieve, chronicled  every  stage  of  my  journey." 

"  It  was  disgraceful !  "  she  (declared.  "  The  people 
in  office  over  there  are  cowards." 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  objected.  "  They  were  very  well 
advised.  They  acted  with  shrewd  common  sense. 
America  is  no  better  prepared  for  a  revolution  than 
England  is." 

"  Do  you  imagine,"  she  demanded,  her  voice 
trembling,  "  that  you  will  be  permitted  to  repeat  in 
this  country  your  American  exploits  ?  " 

Maraton  smiled  a  little  sadly. 

"Need  we  discuss  these  things,  Lady  Elisabeth?'* 

"  Yes,  we  need !  "  she  replied  promptly.  "  This 
is  my  one  opportunity.  You  and  I  will  probably 
never  exchange  another  word  so  long  as  we  live.  I 
have  read  your  book  —  every  word  of  it.  I  have 
read  it  several  times.  In  that  book  you  have  shown 
just  as  much  of  yourself  as  you  chose,  and  no  more. 
Although  I  have  hated  the  idea  that  I  might  ever 
have  to  speak  to  you,  now  that  you  are  here,  now 


18  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

that  it  has  come  to  pass,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a 
question." 

He  sighed. 

"  People  ask  me  so  many  questions !  " 

"  Tell  me  this,"  she  continued,  without  heeding  his 
interruption.  "  Do  you,  in  your  heart,  believe  that 
you  are  justified  in  going  about  the  world  preaching 
your  hateful  doctrines,  seeking  out  the  toilers  only 
to  fill  them  with  discontent  and  to  set  them  against 
their  employers,  preaching  everywhere  bloodshed  and 
anarchy,  inflaming  the  minds  of  people  who  in  ordi- 
nary times  are  contented,  even  happy?  You  have 
made  yourself  feared  and  hated  in  every  country  of 
the  world.  You  have  brought  America  almost  to  the 
verge  of  revolution.  And  now,  just  when  England 
needs  peace  most,  when  affairs  on  the  Continent  are 
so  threatening  and  every  one  connected  with  the 
Government  of  the  country  is  passing  through  a 
time  of  the  gravest  anxiety,  you  intend,  they  say,  to 
start  a  campaign  here.  You  say  that  you  love  the 
truth.  Answer  me  this  question  truthfully,  then. 
Do  you  believe  that  you  are  justified?  " 

He  had  listened  to  her  at  first  with  a  slight,  toler- 
ant smile  upon  his  lips,  a  smile  which  faded  gradually 
away.  He  was  sombre,  almost  stern,  when  she  had 
finished.  He  seemed  in  some  curious  way  to  have 
assumed  a  larger  shape,  to  have  become  more  impos- 
ing. His  attitude  had  a  strange  and  indefinable 
influence  upon  her. 

She  was  suddenly  conscious  of  her  youth  and 
inexperience  —  bitterly  and  rebelliously  conscious 
of  them  —  before  he  had  even  opened  his  lip» 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  19 

Her  own  words  sounded  crude  and  unconvinc- 
ing. 

"  I  am  not  one  of  the  flamboyant  orators  of  the 
Socialist  party,  Lady  Elisabeth,"  he  said,  "  nor  am 
I  one  of  those  who  are  able  to  see  much  joy  or  very 
much  hopefulness  in  life  under  present  conditions. 
For  every  word  I  have  spoken  and  every  line  I  have 
written,  I  accept  the  full  and  complete  responsi- 
bility." 

"  Those  men  who  were  murdered  in  Chicago,  mur- 
dered at  your  instigation  because  they  tried  to  break 
the  strike  —  what  of  them  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  as  one  might  have  looked  at  a 
child. 

"  Their  lives  were  a .  necessary  sacrifice  in  a  good 
cause,"  he  declared.  "  Does  one  think  now  of  the 
sea  of  blood  through  which  France  once  purged  her- 
self? Believe  me,  young  lady,  there  is  nothing  in 
the  world  more  to  be  avoided  than  this  sentimental 
and  exaggerated  reverence  for  life.  It  is  born  of  a 
false  ideal,  artistically  and  actually.  Life  is  a  sac- 
rifice to  be  offered  in  a  just  cause  when  necessary. 
...  I  imagine  that  this  is  your  uncle." 

Mr.  Foley  was  standing  upon  the  threshold  of  the 
room,  his  hand  outstretched,  his  thin,  long  face  full 
of  conviction. 

"  My  niece  has  succeeded  in  discovering  you,  then, 
Mr.  Maraton,"  he  said.  "  I  am  glad." 

Maraton  smiled  as  he  shook  hands. 

"  I  have  certainly  had  the  pleasure  of  making 
your  niece's  acquaintance,"  he  admitted.  "  We  have 
had  quite  an  interesting  discussion." 


20  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Elisabeth  turned  away  without  looking  towards 
him. 

"  I  will  leave  Mr.  Maraton  to  you,  uncle,"  she 
said.  "  He  will  tell  you  that  I  have  been  very  candid 
indeed.  We  were  coming  face  to  face  with  Mr. 
Culvain,  so  I  brought  him  in  here." 

She  did  not  glance  again  in  Maraton's  direction, 
nor  did  she  offer  him  any  form  of  farewell  salutation. 
Mr.  Foley  frowned  slightly  as  he  glanced  after  her. 
Maraton,  too,  watched  her  leave  the  room.  She 
paused  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold  to  gather  up 
her  train,  a  graceful  but  at  the  same  time  imperious 
gesture.  She  left  them  without  a  backward  look. 
Mr.  Foley  turned  quickly  towards  his  companion  and 
was  relieved  at  the  expression  which  he  found  in  his 
face. 

"  My  niece  is  a  little  earnest  in  her  views,"  he  re- 
marked, "  too  much  so,  I  am  afraid,  for  a  practical 
politician.  She  is  quite  well-informed  and  a  great 
help  to  me  at  times." 

"  I  found  her  altogether  charming,"  Maraton  said 
quietly.  "  She  has,  too,  the  unusual  gift  of  hon- 
esty." 

Mr.  Foley  was  once  more  a  little  uneasy.  It  was 
impossible  for  him  to  forget  Elisabeth's  outspoken 
verdict  upon  this  man  and  all  his  works. 

"  The  young  are  never  tolerant,"  he  murmured. 

"  And  quite  rightly,"  Maraton  observed.  "  There 
is  nothing  more  to  be  envied  in  youth  than  its  mag- 
nificent certainty.  It  knows!  ...  I  am  flattered, 
Mr.  Foley,  that  you  should  have  received  me  in  your 
house  to-night.  Your  niece's  attitude  towards  me, 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  21 

even  if  a  trifle  crude,  is,  I  am  afraid,  the  general  one 
amongst  your  class  in  this  country." 

"  To  be  frank  with  you,  I  agree,"  Mr.  Foley 
assented.  "  I,  personally,  Mr.  Maraton,  am  trying 
to  be  a  dissenter.  It  is  for  that  reason  that  I 
begged  you  to  come  here  to-night  and  discuss  the 
matter  with  me  before  you  committed  yourself  to  any 
definite  plan  of  action  in  this  country." 

"  Your  message  was  a  surprise  to  me,"  Maraton 
admitted  calmly.  "  At  the  same  time,  it  was  a  sum- 
mons which  I  could  not  disregard.  As  you  see,  I 
am  here." 

Mr.  Foley  drew  a  key  from  his  pocket  and  led 
the  way  across  the  room  towards  a  closed  door. 

"  I  want  to  make  sure  that  we  are  not  disturbed. 
I  am  going  to  take  you  through  to  my  study,  if  I 
may." 

They  passed  into  a  small  inner  room,  plainly  but 
comfortably  furnished. 

"  My  own  den,"  Mr.  Foley  explained,  closing  the 
door  behind  him  with  an  air  of  relief.  "  Will  .you 
smoke,  Mr.  Maraton,  or  drink  anything?  " 

"  Neither,  thank  you,"  Maraton  answered.  "  I 
am  here  to  listen.  I  am  curious  to  hear  what  there 
is  that  you  can  have  to  say  to  me." 


Mr.  Foley  pointed  to  an  easy-chair.  Maraton, 
however,  did  not  at  once  respond  to  his  gesture  of 
invitation.  He  was  standing,  tense  and  silent,  with 
head  upraised,  listening.  From  the  street  outside 
came  a  strange,  rumbling  sound. 

"  You  permit  ?  "  he  asked,  stepping  to  the  window 
and  drawing  the  curtain  a  few  inches  on  one  side. 
"  There  is  something  familiar  about  that  sound.  I 
heard  it  last  in  Chicago." 

Mr.  Foley  rose  slowly  from  the  easy-chair  into 
which  he  had  thrown  himself,  and  stood  by  his  visi- 
tor's side.  Outside,  the  pavements  were  lined  by 
policemen,  standing  like  sentries  about  half-a-dozen 
yards  apart.  The  tented  entrance  to  the  house  was 
guarded  by  a  solid  phalanx  of  men  in  uniform.  A 
mounted  inspector  was  riding  slowly  up  and  down  in 
the  middle  of  the  road.  At  the  entrance  to  the 
street,  barely  fifty  yards  away,  a  moving  mass  of 
people,  white-faced,  almost  spectral,  were  passing 
slowly  beneath  the  pale  gas-lamps. 

"  The  people !  "  Maraton  murmured,  with  a  curious 
note  in  his  tone,  half  of  reverence,  half  of  pity. 

"  The  mob !  "  Mr.  Foley  echoed  bitterly.  "  They 
brawl  before  the  houses  of  those  who  do  their  best 
to  serve  them.  They  bark  always  at  our  heels. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  23 

Perhaps  to-night  it  is  you  whom  they  have  come  to 
honour.  Your  bodyguard,  eh,  Mr.  Maraton  ?  " 

"  If  they  have  discovered  that  I  am  here,  it  is  not 
unlikely,"  Maraton  admitted  calmly. 

Mr.  Foley  dropped  the  curtain  which  he  had  taken 
from  his  companion's  fingers.  Moving  back  into  the 
room,  he  turned  on  more  light.  Then  he  resumed 
his  seat. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  he  began,  "  we  met  only  once 
before,  I  think.  That  was  four  years  ago  this  sum- 
mer. Answer  me  honestly  —  do  you  see  any  change 
in  me  ?  " 

Maraton  leaned  a  little  forward.  His  face  showed 
some  concern,  as  he  answered: 

"  You  are  not  in  the  best  of  health  just  now,  I 
fear,  Mr.  Foley." 

"  I  am  as  well  as  I  shall  ever  be,"  was  the  quiet 
reply.  "  What  you  see  in  my  face  is  just  the  record 
of  these  last  four  years,  the  outward  evidence  of 
four  years  of  ceaseless  trouble  and  anxiety.  I  will 
not  call  myself  yet  a  broken  man,  but  the  time  is 
not  far  off." 

Maraton  remained  silent.  His  attitude  was  still 
sympathetic,  but  he  seemed  determined  to  carry  out 
his  role  of  listener. 

"  If  the  political  history  of  these  four  years  is 
ever  truthfully  written,"  Mr.  Foley  continued,  "  the 
world  will  be  amazed  at  the  calm  indifference  of  the 
people  threatened  day  by  day  with  national  disaster. 
We  who  have  been  behind  the  scenes  have  kept  a  stiff 
upper  lip  before  the  world,  but  I  tell  you  frankly, 
Mr.  Maraton,  that  no  Cabinet  who  ever  undertook 


24  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

the  government  of  this  country  has  gone  through 
what  we  have  gone  through.  Three  times  we  have 
been  on  the  brink  of  war  —  twice  on  our  own  account 
and  once  on  account  of  those  whom  we  are  bound  to 
consider  our  allies.  The  other  national  disaster  we 
have  had  to  face,  you  know  of.  Still,  here  we  are 
safe  up  to  to-night.  There  is  nothing  in  the  whole 
world  we  need  now  so  much  as  rest  —  just  a  few 
months'  freedom  from  anxiety.  Until  last  week  we 
had  dared  to  hope  for  it.  Now,  breathless  still  from 
our  last  escape,  we  are  face  to  face  suddenly  with 
all  the  possibilities  of  your  coming." 

"  You  fear  the  people,"  Maraton  remarked  quietly. 

Mr.  Foley's  pale,  worn  face  suddenly  lit  up. 

"  Fear  the  people ! "  he  repeated,  with  a  note  of 
passion  in  his  tone.  "  I  fear  the  people  for  their 
own  sake ;  I  fear  the  ruin  and  destruction  they  may, 
by  ill-advised  action,  bring  upon  themselves  and  their 
country.  Mr.  Maraton,  grant,  will  you  not,  that  I 
am  a  man  of  some  experience?  Believe,  I  pray  you, 
that  I  am  honest.  Let  me  assure  you  of  this.  If 
the  people  be  not  wisely  led  now,  the  Empire  which 
I  and  my  Ministers  have  striven  so  hard  to  keep 
intact,  must  fall.  There  are  troubles  pressing  upon 
us  still  from  every  side.  If  the  people  are  wrongly 
advised  to-day,  the  British  Empire  must  fall,  even 
as  those  other  great  dynasties  of  the  past  have 
fallen." 

Maraton  turned  once  more  to  the  window,  raised 
the  curtain,  and  gazed  out  into  the  darkness.  There 
was  a  little  movement  at  the  end  of  the  street.  The 
police  had  driven  back  the  crowd  to  allow  a  carriage 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  25 

to  pass  through.  A  hoarse  murmur  of  voices  came 
floating  into  the  room.  The  people  gave  way  slowly 
and  unwillingly  —  still,  they  gave  way.  Law  and 
order,  strenuous  though  the  task  of  preserving  them 
was  becoming,  prevailed. 

"  Mr.  Foley,"  Maraton  said,  dropping  the  curtain 
and  returning  once  more  to  his  place,  "  I  am  hon- 
oured by  your  confidence.  You  force  me,  however, 
to  remind  you  that  you  have  spoken  to  me  as  a 
politician.  I  am  not  a  politician.  The  cause  of 
the  people  is  above  politics." 

*'  I  am  for  the  people,"  Mr.  Foley  declared,  with 
a  sudden  passion  in  his  tone.  "  It  is  their  own  fault, 
the  blind  prejudice  of  their  ignorant  leaders,  if  they 
fail  to  recognise  it." 

"  For  the  people,"  Maraton  repeated  softly. 

"  Haven't  my  Government  done  their  best  to  prove 
it  ?  "  the  Prime  Minister  demanded,  almost  fiercely. 
"  We  have  passed  at  least  six  measures  which  a  dozen 
years  ago  would  have  been  reckoned  rank  Socialism. 
What  we  do  need  to-day  is  a  people's  man  in  our 
Government.  I  admit  our  weakness.  I  admit  that 
with  every  desire  to  do  the  right  thing,  we  may 
sometimes  err  through  lack  of  knowledge.  Our  great 
trouble  is  this;  there  is  not  to-day  a  single  man 
amongst  the  Labour  Party,  a  single  man  who  has 
come  into  Parliament  on  the  mandate  of  the  people, 
whose  assistance  would  be  of  the  slightest  service 
to  us.  I  make  you  an  offer  which  you  yourself  must 
consider  a  wonderful  one.  You  come  to  this  country 
as  an  enemy,  and  I  offer  you  my  hand  as  a  friend. 
I  offer  you  not  only  a  seat  in  Parliament  but  a  share 


26  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

in  the  counsels  of  my  party.  I  ask  you  to  teach  us 
how  to  legislate  for  the  people  of  the  future." 

Maraton  remained  for  a  moment  silent.  His  face 
betrayed  no  exultation.  His  tone,  when  at  last  he 
spoke,  was  almost  sad. 

"  Mr.  Foley,"  he  said,  "  if  you  are  not  a  great 
man,  you  have  in  you,  at  least,  the  elements  of  great- 
ness. You  have  imagination.  You  know  how  to 
meet  a  crisis.  I  only  wish  that  what  you  suggest 
were  possible.  Twenty  years  ago,  perhaps,  yes. 
To-day  I  fear  that  the  time  for  any  legislation  in 
which  you  would  concur,  is  past." 

"What  have  you  to  hope  for  but  legislation?" 
Mr.  Foley  asked.  "  What  else  is  there  but  civil 
war?  " 

Maraton  smiled  a  little  grimly. 

"  There  is  what  in  your  heart  you  are  fearing  all 
the  time,"  he  replied.  "  There  is  the  slow  paralysis 
of  all  your  manufactures,  the  stoppage  of  your  rail- 
ways, the  dislocation  of  every  industry  and  under- 
taking built  upon  the  slavery  of  the  people.  What 
about  your  British  Empire  then?  " 

Mr.  Foley  regarded  his  visitor  with  quiet  dignity. 

"  I  have  understood  that  you  were  an  Englishman, 
Mr.  Maraton,"  he  said.  "  Am  I  to  look  upon  you 
as  a  traitor?  " 

"  Not  to  the  cause  which  is  my  one  religion," 
Maraton  retorted  swiftly.  "  Empires  may  come 
and  go,  but  the  people  remain.  What  changes  may 
happen  to  this  country  before  the  great  and  final 
one,  is  a  matter  in  which  I  am  not  deeply  concerned." 

The  telephone  bell  upon  the  table  between  them 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  27 

rang.  Mr.  Folej  frowned  slightly,  as  he  raised  the 
receiver  to  his  ear. 

"  You  will  forgive  me  ?  "  he  begged.  "  This  is 
doubtless  a  matter  of  some  importance.  It  is  not 
often  that  my  secretary  allows  me  to  be  disturbed 
at  this  hour." 

Maraton  wandered  back  to  the  window,  raised  the 
curtain  and  once  more  looked  out  upon  the  scene 
which  seemed  to  him  that  night  so  pregnant  with 
meaning.  His  mind  remained  fixed  upon  the  symbol- 
ism of  the  streets.  He  heard  only  the  echoes  of  a 
somewhat  prolonged  exchange  of  questions  and 
answers.  Finally,  Mr.  Foley  replaced  the  receiver 
and  announced  the  conclusion  of  the  conversation. 
When  Maraton  turned  round,  it  seemed  to  him  that 
his  host's  face  was  grey. 

"  You  come  like  the  stormy  petrel,"  the  latter  re- 
marked bitterly.  "  There  is  bad  news  to-night  from 
the  north.  We  are  threatened  with  militant  labour 
troubles  all  over  the  country." 

"  It  is  the  inevitable,"  Maraton  declared. 

Mr.  Foley  struck  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"  I  deny  it !  "  he  cried.  "  These  troubles  can  and 
shall  be  stopped.  Legislation  shall  do  it  —  amicable, 
if  possible;  brutal,  if  not.  But  the  man  who  is  con- 
tent to  see  his  country  ruined,  see  it  presented,  a 
helpless  prey,  to  our  enemies  for  the  mere  trouble 
of  landing  upon  our  shores, —  that  man  is  a  traitor 
and  deserves  to  be  treated  as  such.  Tell  me,  on  be- 
half of  the  people,  Mr.  Maraton,  what  is  it  that  you 
want  ?  Name  your  terms  ?  " 

Maraton  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 


28  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  You  are  a  brave  man,  Mr.  Foley,"  he  said,  "  but 
remember  that  you  do  not  stand  alone.  There  are 
your  fellow  Ministers." 

"  They  are  my  men,"  Mr.  Foley  insisted.  "  Be- 
sides, there  is  the  thunder  in  the  air.  We  cannot  dis- 
regard it.  We  are  not  ostriches.  Better  to  meet 
the  trouble  bravely  than  to  be  crushed  by  it." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  Lady  Elisabeth 
appeared  upon  the  threshold.  Maraton  was  con- 
scious of  realising  for  the  first  time  that  this  was 
the  most  beautiful  woman  whom  he  had  ever  seen 
in  his  life.  She  avoided  looking  at  him  as  she  ad- 
dressed her  uncle. 

"  Uncle,"  she  said  deprecatingly,  "  I  am  so  sorry, 
but  every  one  is  asking  for  you.  You  have  been  in 
here  for  nearly  twenty  minutes.  There  is  a  rumour 
that  you  are  ill." 

Mr.  Foley  rose  to  his  feet  reluctantly. 

"  I  will  come,"  he  promised. 

She  closed  the  door  and  departed  silently.  At  no 
time  had  she  glanced  towards  or  taken  any  notice  of 
Maraton. 

"  We  discuss  the  fate  of  an  empire,"  Mr.  Foley 
sighed,  "  and  necessity  demands  that  I  must  return 
to  my  guests!  This  conversation  between  us  must 
be  finished.  You  are  a  reasonable  man ;  you  cannot 
deny  the  right  of  an  enemy  to  demand  your  terms 
before  you  declare  war  ?  " 

Maraton,  too,  had  risen  to  his  feet.  He  had 
turned  slightly  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  door 
through  which  Elisabeth  had  passed.  For  a  moment 
or  two  he  seemed  deep  in  thought.  The  immobility 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  29 

of  his  features  was  at  last  disturbed.  His  eyes  were 
wonderfully  bright,  his  lips  were  a  little  parted. 

"  On  Saturday,"  Mr.  Foley  continued,  "  we  leave 
for  our  country  home.  For  two  days  we  shall  be 
alone.  It  is  not  far  away  —  an  hour  by  rail.  Will 
you  come,  Mr.  Maraton?  " 

Maraton  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the  door. 

"  It  seems  a  little  useless,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Will 
you  give  me  until  to-morrow  to  think  it  over?  " 


CHAPTER  IV 

Maraton  made  his  way  from  Downing  Street  on 
foot,  curiously  enough  altogether  escaping  recogni- 
tion from  the  crowds  who  were  still  hanging  about 
on  the  chance  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  him.  He 
was  somehow  conscious,  as  he  turned  northwards, 
of  a  peculiar  sense  of  exhilaration,  a  savour  in  life 
unexpected,  not  altogether  analysable.  As  a  rule, 
the  streets  themselves  supplied  him  with  illimitable 
food  for  thought;  the  passing  multitudes,  the  cease- 
less flow  of  the  human  stream,  justification  absolute 
and  most  complete  for  the  new  faith  of  which  he  was 
the  prophet.  For  the  cause  of  the  people  had  only 
been  recognised  during  recent  days  as  something  en- 
tirely distinct  from  the  Socialism  and  Syndicalism 
which  had  been  its  precursors.  It  was  Maraton  him- 
self who  had  raised  it  to  the  level  of  a  religion. 

To-night,  however,  there  was  a  curious  background 
to  his  thoughts.  Some  part  of  his  earlier  life  seemed 
stirred  up  in  the  man.  The  one  selfishness  permitted 
to  rank  as  a  virtue  in  his  sex  was  alive.  His  heart 
had  ceased  to  throb  with  the  loiterers,  the  flotsam  and 
jetsam  of  the  gutters.  For  the  moment  he  was  cast 
loose  from  the  absorbed  and  serious  side  of  his  career. 
A  curious  wave  of  sentiment  had  enveloped  him,  a  wave 
of  sentiment  unanalysable  and  as  yet  impersonal ;  he 
walked  as  a  man  in  a  dream.  For  the  first  time  he 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  31 

had  seen  and  recognised  the  imperishable  thing  in  a 
woman's  face. 

He  reached  at  last  one  of  the  large,  somewhat 
gloomy  squares  in  the  district  between  St.  Pancras 
and  New  Oxford  street,  and  paused  before  one  of  the 
most  remote  houses  situated  at  the  extreme  north- 
east corner.  He  opened  the  front  door  with  a  latch- 
key and  passed  across  a  large  but  simply  furnished 
hall  into  his  study.  He  entered  a  little  abstractedly, 
and  it  was  not  until  he  had  closed  the  door  behind 
him  that  he  realised  the  presence  of  another  person 
in  the  room.  At  his  entrance  she  had  risen  to  her 
feet. 

"  At  last !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  At  last  you  have 
come ! " 

There  was  a  silence,  prolonged,  curious,  in  a  sense 
thrilling.  A  girl  of  wonderful  appearance  had  risen 
to  her  feet  and  was  looking  eagerly  towards  him. 
She  was  wearing  the  plain  black  dress  of  a  working 
woman,  whose  clumsy  folds  inadequately  concealed  a 
figure  of  singular  beauty  and  strength.  Her  cheeks 
were  colourless ;  her  eyes  large  and  deep,  and  of  a  soft 
shade  of  grey,  filled  just  now  with  the  half  wonder- 
ing, half  worshipping  expression  of  a  pilgrim  who 
has  reached  the  Mecca  of  her  desires.  Her  hair  — 
her  shabby  hat  lay  upon  the  table  —  was  dark  and 
glossy.  Her  arms  were  a  little  outstretched.  Her 
lips,  unusually  scarlet  against  the  pallor  of  her  face, 
were  parted.  Her  whole  attitude  was  one  of  quiver- 
ing eagerness.  Maraton  stood  and  looked  at  her 
in  wonder.  The  little  cloud  of  sentiment  in  which 
he  had  been  moving,  perhaps,  made  him  more  than 


32  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

ever  receptive  to  the  impressions  which  she  seemed  to 
create.  Both  the  girl  herself  and  her  pose  were 
splendidly  allegorical.  She  stood  there  for  the  great 
things  of  life. 

"  I  would  not  go  away,"  she  cried  softly.  "  They 
forbade  me  to  stay,  but  I  came  back.  I  am  Julia 
Thurnbrein.  I  have  waited  so  long." 

Maraton  stepped  towards  her  and  took  her  hands. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  said.  "  It  is  fitting  that  you 
should  be  one  of  the  first  to  welcome  me.  You  have 
done  a  great  work,  Julia  Thurnbrein." 

"  And  you,"  she  murmured  passionately,  still 
clasping  his  hands,  "  you  a  far  greater  one !  Ever 
since  I  understood,  I  have  longed  for  this  meeting. 
It  is  you  who  will  become  the  world's  deliverer." 

Maraton  led  her  gently  back  to  the  chair  in  which 
she  had  been  sitting. 

"  Now  we  must  talk,"  he  declared.  "  Sit  opposite 
to  me  there." 

He  struck  a  match  and  lit  the  lamp  of  a  little 
coffee  machine  which  stood  upon  the  table.  She 
sprang  eagerly  to  her  feet. 

"  Let  me,  please,"  she  begged.  "  I  understand 
those  things.  Please  let  me  make  the  coffee." 

He  laughed  and,  going  to  the  cabinet,  brought  an- 
other of  the  old  blue  china  cups  and  saucers.  With 
very  deft  fingers  she  manipulated  the  machine. 
Presently,  when  her  task  was  finished,  she  sat  back 
in  her  chair,  her  coffee  cup  in  her  hand,  her  great 
eyes  fixed  upon  him.  She  had  the  air  of  a  person 
entirely  content. 

"  So  you  are  Julia  Thurnbrein." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  33 

"  And  you,"  she  replied,  still  with  that  note  of  sup- 
pressed yet  passionate  reverence  in  her  tone,  "  are 
Maraton." 

He  smiled. 

"  The  women  workers  of  the  world  owe  you  a  great 
deal,"  he  said. 

"  But  it  is  so  little  that  one  can  do,"  she  answered, 
quivering  with  pleasure  at  his  words.  "  One  needs 
inspiration,  direction.  Now  that  you  have  cojiie,  it 
will  be  different ;  it  will  be  wonderful  1 " 

She  leaned  towards  him,  and  once  more  Maraton 
was  conscious  of  the  splendid  mobility  of  her  tremb- 
ling body.  She  was  a  revelation  to  him  —  a  modern 
Joan  of  Arc. 

"  Remember  that  I  am  no  magician,"  he  warned 
her. 

"  Ah,  but  your  very  presence  alters  everything !  " 
she  cried.  "  It  makes  everything  possible  —  every- 
thing. My  brother,  too,  is  mad  with  excitement. 
He  hoped  that  you  might  have  been  at  the  Clarion 
Hall  to-night,  before  you  went  to  Downing  Street* 
You  have  seen  Mr.  Foley  and  talked  with  him?  " 

"  I  have  come  straight  from  there,"  he  told  her- 
"  Foley  is  a  shrewd  man.  He  sees  the  writing  upon 
the  wall.  He  is  afraid." 

She  looked  at  him  and  laughed. 

"  They  will  try  to  buy  you,"  she  remarked  scorn- 
fully. "  They  will  try  to  deal  with  you  as  they  did 
with  Blake  and  others  like  him  —  you  —  Maraton ! 
Oh,  I  wonder  if  England  knows  what  it  means,  your 
coming !  —  if  she  really  feels  the  breaking  dawn !  " 

"  Tell  me  about  yourself?  "  Maraton  asked,  a  little 


34  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

abruptly  — "  your  work  ?  I  know  you  only  by 
name,  remember  —  your  articles  in  the  reviews  and 
your  evidence  before  the  Woman  Labour  Commis- 
sion." 

"  I  am  a  tailoress,"  she  replied.  "  It  is  horrible 
work,  but  I  have  the  good  fortune  to  be  quick.  I 
can  make  a  living  —  there  are  many  who  cannot." 

He  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  his  head  sup- 
ported by  his  hand,  his  eyes  fixed  curiously  upon 
her.  Her  pallor  was  not  wholly  the  pallor  of  ill- 
health.  In  her  beautiful  eyes  shone  the  fire  of  life. 
She  laughed  at  him  softly  and  held  out  her  hands 
for  his  inspection.  They  were  shapely  enough,  but 
her  finger-tips  were  scotched  and  pricked. 

"  Here  are  the  hall-marks  of  my  trade.  Others 
who  work  by  my  side  have  fallen  away.  It  is  of  their 
sufferings  I  have  written.  I  myself  am  physically 
very  strong.  It  is  the  average  person  who  counts." 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully. 

"  You  have  written  and  worked  a  great  deal  for 
your  age.  Are  you  still  in  employment  ?  " 

"  Of  course !  I  left  off  at  seven  this  evening.  I 
have  nothing  else  in  my  life,"  she  added  simply,  "  but 
my  work,  our  work,  the  breaking  of  these  vile  bonds. 
I  need  no  pleasures.  I  have  never  thought  of  any." 

Her  eyes  suddenly  dropped  before  his.  A  con- 
fusion of  thought  seemed  to  have  seized  upon  her. 
Maraton,  too,  conscious  of  the  nature  of  his  imagin- 
ings, although  innocent  of  any  personal  application, 
was  not  wholly  free  from  embarrassment. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  think,"  he  observed,  "  that  I 
am  asking  too  many  personal  questions  for  a  new 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  35 

acquaintance,  but,  after  all,  I  must  know  you,  must 
I  not?  We  are  fellow  workers  in  a  great  cause.  The 
small  things  do  not  matter." 

She  looked  at  him  once  more  frankly.  The  blush 
had  passed  from  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  were  untroubled. 

"  I  don't  know  what  came  over  me,"  she  confessed. 
"  I  was  suddenly  afraid  that  you  might  misunder- 
stand my  coming  to  you  like  this,  without  invitation, 
so  late.  Somehow,  with  you,  it  didn't  seem  to  count." 

"  It  must  not !  " 

More  at  her  ease  now  she  glanced  around  the  room 
and  back  at  him.  He  smiled. 

"  Confess,"  he  said,  "  that  there  are  some  things 
about  me  and  my  surroundings  which  have  surprised 
you? "  \ 

She  nodded. 

"  Willingly.  I  was  surprised  at  your  house,  at 
being  received  by  a  man  servant  —  at  everything," 
she  added,  with  a  glance  at  his  attire.  "  Yet  what 
does  that  matter?  It  is  because  I  do  not  under- 
stand." 

The  little  lines  about  his  eyes  deepened.  He 
laughed  softly. 

"  I  only  hope  that  the  others  will  adopt  your  atti- 
tude. I  hear  that  many  of  them  have  very  decided 
views  about  evening  dress  and  small  luxuries  of  any 
description." 

"  Graveling  and  Peter  Dale  —  especially  Dale  — 
are  terrible,"  she  declared.  "  Dale  is  very  narrow, 
indeed.  You  must  bear  with  them  if  they  are  foolish 
at  first.  They  are  uncultured  and  rough.  They  do 
not  quite  understand.  Sometimes  they  do  not  see 


36  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

far   enough.     But   to-morrow  you  will  meet   them. 
You  will  be  at  the  Clarion  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  he  answered  thoughtfully.  "  I 
am  thinking  matters  over.  To-morrow  I  shall  meet 
the  men  of  whom  you  have  spoken,  and  a  few  others 
whose  names  I  have  on  my  list,  and  consult  with 
them.  Personally,  I  am  not  sure  as  to  the  wisdom  of 
opening  my  lips  until  after  our  meeting  at  Man- 
chester." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that !  "  she  begged.  "  What  we 
all  need  so  much  is  encouragement,  inspiration.  Our 
greatest  danger  is  lethargy.  There  are  millions  who 
stare  into  the  darkness,  who  long  for  a  single  word 
of  hope.  Their  eyes  are  almost  tired.  Come  and 
speak  to  us  to-morrow  as  you  spoke  to  the  men  and 
women  of  Chicago." 

He  smiled  a  little  grimly. 

"  You  forget  that  this  is  England.  Until  the  time 
comes,  one  must  choose  one's  words.  It  is  just  what 
would  please  our  smug  enemies  best  to  have  me  break 
their  laws  before  I  have  been  here  long  enough  to 
become  dangerous." 

"  You  broke  the  laws  of  America,"  she  protested 
eagerly. 

"  I  had  a  million  men  and  women  primed  for  battle 
at  my  back,"  he  reminded  her.  "  The  warrant  was 
signed  for  my  arrest,  but  no  one  dared  to  serve  it. 
All  the  same,  I  had  to  leave  the  country  with  some 
work  half  finished." 

"  It  was  a  glorious  commencement,"  she  cried  en- 
thusiastically. 

"  One  must  not  forget,  though,"  he  sighed,  "  that 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  37 

England  is  different.  To  attain  the  same  ends  here, 
one  may  have  to  use  somewhat  different  methods." 

For  the  moment,  perhaps,  she  was  stirred  by  some 
prophetic  misgiving.  The  hard  common  sense  of  his 
words  fell  like  a  cold  douche  upon  the  furnace  of  her 
enthusiasms.  She  had  imagined  him  a  prophet, 
touched  by  the  great  and  unmistakable  fire,  ready  to 
drive  his  chariot  through  all  the  hosts  of  iniquity; 
irresistible,  unassailable,  cleaving  his  way  through 
the  bending  masses  of  their  oppressors  to  the  goal 
of  their  desires.  His  words  seemed  to  proclaim  him 
a  disciple  of  other  methods.  There  were  to  be  com- 
promises. His  attire,  his  dwelling,  this  luxuriously 
furnished  room,  so  different  from  anything  which  she 
had  expected,  proclaimed  it.  She  herself  held  it  part 
of  the  creed  of  her  life  to  be  free  from  all  ornaments, 
free  from  even  the  shadow  of  luxury.  Her  throat 
was  bare,  her  hair  simply  arranged,  her  fingers  and 
wrists  innocent  of  even  the  simplest  article  of  jewel- 
lery. He,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Elijah  of  her 
dreams,  appeared  in  the  guise  of  a  man  of  fashion, 
wearing,  as  though  he  were  used  to  them,  the  attire 
of  the  hated  class,  obviously  qualified  by  breeding 
and  use  to  hold  his  place  amongst  them.  Was  this 
indeed  to  be  the  disappointment  of  her  life?  Then 
she  remembered  and  her  courage  rose.  After  all, 
he  was  the  Master. 

"  I  will  go  now,"  she  said.  "  I  am  glad  to  have 
been  the  first  to  have  welcomed  you." 

He  held  out  his  hands.  Then  for  a  moment  they 
both  listened  and  turned  towards  the  door.  There 
was  the  sound  of  an  angry  voice  —  a  visitor,  appar- 


38  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

ently,  trying  to  force  his  way  in.  Maraton  strode 
towards  the  door  and  opened  it.  A  young  man  was 
in  the  hall,  expostulating  angrily  with  a  resolute 
man  servant.  His  hat  had  rolled  on  to  the  floor,  his 
face  was  flushed  with  anger.  The  servant,  on  recog- 
nising his  master,  stepped  back  at  once. 

"  The  gentleman  insisted  upon  forcing  his  way  in, 
sir,"  he  explained  softly.  "  I  wished  him  to  wait 
while  I  brought  you  his  name." 

Maraton  smiled  and  made  a  little  gesture  of  dis- 
missal. The  young  man  picked  up  his  hat.  He  was 
still  hot  with  anger.  Maraton  pointed  to  the  room 
on  the  threshold  of  which  the  girl  was  still  standing. 

"  If  you  wish  to  speak  to  me,"  he  said,  "  I  am 
quite  at  your  service.  Only  it  is  a  little  late  for  a 
visit,  isn't  it?  And  yours  seems  to  be  a  rather 
unceremonious  way  of  insisting  upon  it.  Who  are 
you?" 

The  }Toung  man  stood  and  stared  at  his  questioner. 
He  was  wearing  a  blue  serge  suit,  obviously  ready- 
made,  thick  boots,  a  doubtful  collar,  a  machine- 
knitted  silk  tie  of  vivid  colour.  He  had  curly  fair 
hair,  a  sharp  face  with  narrow  eyes,  thick  lips  and 
an  indifferent  complexion. 

"  Are  you  Maraton  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"I  am,"  Maraton  admitted.     "And  you?" 

'*  I  am  Richard  Graveling,  M.P.,"  the  young  man 
announced,  with  a  certain  emphasis  on  those  last  two 
letters, — "  M.P.  for  Poplar  East.  We  expected  you 
at  the  Clarion  to-night." 

"  I  had  other  business,"  Maraton  remarked  calmly. 

The  young  man  appeared  a  trifle  disconcerted. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  39 

"  I  don't  see  what  business  you  can  have  here  till 
we've  talked  things  out  and  laid  our  plans,"  he  de- 
clared. "  I  am  secretary  of  the  committee  appointed 
to  meet  and  confer  with  you.  Peter  Dale  is  chair- 
man, of  course.  There  are  five  of  us.  We  expected 
you  'round  to-night.  You  got  our  telegram  at  Liver- 
pool? " 

"  Certainly,"  Maraton  admitted.  "  It  did  not, 
however,  suit  my  plans  to  accept  your  invitation.  I 
had  a  message  from  Mr.  Foley,  begging  me  to  see 
him  to-night.  I  have  been  to  his  house." 

The  young  man  distinctly  scowled. 

"  So  Foley's  been  getting  at  you,  has  he?  " 

Maraton's  face  was  inscrutable  but  there  was,  for 
a  moment,  a  dangerous  flash  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  had  some  conversation  with  him  this  evening." 

"  What  did  he  want  ?  "  Graveling  asked  bluntly. 

Maraton  raised  his  eyebrows.  He  turned  to  the 
girl. 

"Do  you  know  Mr.  Graveling?" 

The  young  man  scowled.  Julia  smiled  but  there 
was  a  shadow  of  trouble  in  her  face. 

"  Naturally,"  she  replied.  "  Mr.  Graveling  and 
I  are  fellow  workers." 

"  Yes,  we  are  that,"  the  young  man  declared  point- 
edly, "  that  and  a  little  more,  I  hope.  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  followed  Miss  Thurnbrein  here,  and  I 
think  she'd  have  done  better  to  have  asked  for  my 
escort  —  the  escort  of  the  man  she's  going  to  marry 
—  before  she  came  here  alone  at  this  time  of  night." 

Mr.  Graveling's  ill-humour  was  explained.  He 
was  of  the  order  of  those  to  whom  the  ability  to  con- 


40  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

ceal  their  feelings  is  not  given,  and  he  was  obviously 
in  a  temper.  Maraton's  face  remained  impassive. 
The  girl,  however,  stood  suddenly  erect.  There  was 
a  vivid  spot  of  colour  in  her  cheeks. 

"  You  had  better  keep  to  the  truth,  Richard 
Graveling ! "  she  cried  fearlessly.  "  I  have  never 
promised  to  marry  you,  or  if  I  have,  it  was  under 
certain  conditions.  You  had  no  right  to  follow  me 
here." 

The  young  man  opened  his  lips  and  closed  them 
again.  He  was  scarcely  capable  of  speech.  The 
very  intensity  of  his  anger  seemed  to  invest  the  little 
scene  with  a  peculiar  significance.  The  girl  had  the 
air  of  one  who  has  proclaimed  her  freedom.  The 
face  of  the  man  who  glared  at  her  was  distorted  with 
unchained  passions.  In  the  background,  Maraton 
stood  with  tired  but  expressionless  countenance,  and 
the  air  of  one  who  listens  to  a  quarrel  between  chil- 
dren, a  quarrel  in  which  he  has  no  concern. 

"  It  is  not  fair,"  Julia  continued,  "  to  discuss  a 
purely  personal  matter  here.  You  can  walk  home 
with  me  if  you  care  to,  Richard  Graveling,  but  all 
that  I  have  to  say  to  you,  I  prefer  to  say  here.  I 
never  promised  to  marry  you.  You  have  always 
chosen  to  take  it  for  granted,  and  I  have  let  you 
speak  of  it  because  I  was  indifferent,  because  I  have 
never  chosen  to  think  of  such  matters,  because  my 
thoughts  have  been  wholly,  wholly  dedicated  to  the 
greatest  cause  in  the  world.  To-night  you  have 
forced  yourself  upon  me.  You  have  done  yourself 
harm,  not  good.  You  have  surprised  the  truth  in 
my  heart.  It  is  clear  to  me  that  I  cannot  marry 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  41 

you;  I  never  could.  I  shall  not  change.  Now  let 
us  go  back  to  our  work  hand  in  hand,  if  you  will,  but 
that  other  matter  is  closed  between  us  forever." 

She  turned  to  say  farewell  to  Maraton,  but 
Graveling  interposed  himself  between  them.  His 
voice  shook  and  there  were  evil  things  in  his  distorted 
face. 

"  To-night,  for  the  first  time,"  he  exclaimed 
hoarsely,  "  you  speak  in  this  fashion !  Before,  even 
if  you  were  indifferent,  marriage  at  least  seemed  pos- 
sible to  you.  To-night  you  say  that  the  truth  has 
come  to  you.  You  look  at  me  with  different  eyes. 
You  draw  back.  You  begin  to  feel,  to  understand. 
You  are  a  woman  to-night!  Why?  Answer  me 
that!  Why?  Why  to-night?  Why  not  before? 
Why  is  it  that  to-night  you  have  awakened?  I  will 
know!  Look  at  me." 

She  was  taken  unawares,  assailed  suddenly,  not 
only  by  his  words  but  by  those  curious  new  sensations, 
her  own,  yet  unfamiliar  to  her.  It  was  civil  war. 
A  part  of  herself  was  in  league  with  her  accuser. 
She  felt  the  blushes  stain  her  cheeks.  She  looked 
imploringly  at  Maraton  for  help.  He  smiled  at  her 
reassuringly,  delightfully. 

"  Children,"  he  expostulated,  "  this  is  absurd ! 
Off  with  you  to  your  homes.  These  are  small  mat- 
ters of  which  you  speak." 

His  hands  were  courteously  laid  upon  both  of 
them.  He  led  them  to  the  door  and  ^pointed  east- 
wards through  the  darkness. 

"  Think  of  the  morning.  Think  of  the  human 
beings  who  wake  in  a  few  hours,  only  to  bend  their 


42  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

bodies  once  more  to  the  yoke.  The  other  things  are 
but  trifles." 

She  looked  back  at  him  from  the  corner  of  the 
Square,  a  straight,  impassive  figure  in  a  little  halo 
of  soft  light.  There  was  a  catch  in  her  heart.  Her 
companion's  words  were  surely  spoken  in  some  for- 
eign tongue. 

"  We  have  got  to  have  this  out,  Julia,"  he  was  say- 
ing. "  If  anybody  or  anything  has  come  between 
us,  there's  going  to  be  trouble.  If  that's  the  great 
Maraton,  with  his  swagger  evening  clothes  and  big 
house,  well,  he's  not  the  man  for  our  job,  and  I  shan't 
mind  being  the  first  to  tell  him  so." 

She  glanced  at  him,  for  a  moment,  almost  in  won- 
der. Was  he  indeed  so  small,  so  insignificant? 

"  There  are  many  paths,"  she  said  softly,  "  which 
lead  to  the  light.  Ours  may  be  best  suited  to  our- 
selves but  it  may  not  be  the  only  one.  It  is  not  for 
you  or  for  me  to  judge." 

Richard  Graveling  talked  on,  doing  his  cause  harm 
with  every  word  he  uttered.  Julia  relapsed  into 
silence ;  soon  she  did  not  even  hear  his  words.  They 
rode  for  some  distance  on  an  omnibus  through  the 
city,  now  shrouded  and  silent.  At  the  corner  of  the 
street  where  she  had  her  humble  lodgings,  he  left  her. 

"  Well,  I  have  had  my  say,"  he  declared.  "  Think 
it  over.  I'll  meet  you  out  of  work  to-morrow,  if  I 
can.  We  shall  have  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  Maraton 
by  that  time!" 

She  left  him  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips.  His  ab- 
sence seemed  like  an  immense,  a  wonderful  relief. 
Once  more  her  thoughts  were  free. 


CHAPTER  V 

But  were  they  free,  after  all,  these  thoughts  of 
hers  ? 

Julia  rose  at  daybreak  and,  fully  dressed,  stood 
watching  the  red  light  eastwards  staining  the  smoke- 
hung  city.  Her  little  room  with  its  plain  deal  furni- 
ture, its  uncarpeted  floor,  was  the  perfection  of  neat- 
ness, her  bed  already  made,  her  little  pots  of  flowers 
upon  the  window-sill,  jealously  watered.  In  the  still 
smaller  sitting-room,  visible  through  the  open  door, 
she  could  hear  the  hissing  of  her  kettle  upon  the  little 
spirit  lamp.  Her  hat  and  gloves  were  already  out. 
Everything  was  in  readiness  for  her  early  start. 

She  had  slept  very  much  as  usual,  and  had  got  up 
only  a  little  earlier  than  she  was  accustomed  to.  Yet 
there  was  a  difference.  Only  so  short  a  time  ago,  the 
incidents  of  her  own  daily  life,  even  the  possibilities 
connected  with  it,  had  seemed  utterly  insignificant, 
so  little  worthy  of  notice.  Morning  and  night  her 
heart  had  been  full  of  the  sufferings  of  those  amongst 
whom  she  worked.  The  flagrant,  hateful  injustice 
of  this  ill-arranged  world  had  throbbed  in  her  pulses, 
absorbed  her  interests,  had  occupied  the  whole  horizon 
of  her  life.  To  marry  Richard  Graveling  might 
sometime  be  advisable,  in  the  interests  of  their  joint 
labours.  And  suddenly  it  had  become  impossible. 
It  had  become  utterly  impossible!  Why? 


44  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

The  red  light  in  the  sky  had  faded,  the  sun  "was 
now  fully  risen.  Julia  looked  out  of  her  window  and 
was  dimly  conscious  of  the  change.  The  heart  which 
had  throbbed  for  the  sorrows  of  others  was  to  thrill 
now  on  its  own  account.  It  was  something  mys- 
terious which  had  happened  to  her,  something  against 
which  she  was  later  on  to  fight  passionately,  which 
was  creeping  like  poison  through  her  veins.  With 
her  splendid  womanhood,  her  intense  consciousness 
of  life,  how  was  it  possible  for  her  to  escape? 

There  was  an  impatient  tap  at  the  door  and  Aaron 
came  in.  She  recognised  him  with  a  little  cry  of 
surprise.  He  was  paler  than  ever  and  grim  with 
his  night's  vigil.  The  lines  under  his  eyes  were 
deeper,  his  skin  seemed  sallower.  He  had  the  di- 
shevelled look  of  one  who  is  still  in  his  attire  of  the 
preceding  day. 

"  You  have  heard  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  We  stayed 
at  the  Clarion  till  three.  Maraton  never  even  sent 
us  a  message.  Yet  they  say  that  he  is  in  London. 
They  even  declare  that  he  was  at  Downing  Street  last 
night." 

"  I  know  that  he  was  there,"  Julia  said  quietly. 

"  You  know  ?  You  ?  But  they  were  all  sure  of 
it." 

He  dashed  his  cap  into  a  corner. 

"  Maraton  is  our  man,"  he  continued  passionately. 
"  No  one  shall  rob  us  of  him.  He  should  have  come 
to  us.  Downing  Street  —  blast  Downing  Street !  " 

"  There  is  no  one  in  this  world,"  she  told  him  gen- 
tly, "  who  will  move  Maraton  from  his  will.  I  know. 
I  have  seen  him." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  45 

He  stared  at  her,  hollow-eyed,  amazed. 

"You?     You  have  seen  him?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  I  heard  by  accident  of  the  house  he  had  taken  — 
the  house  where  he  means  to  live.  I  went  there  and 
I  waited.  Later,  Richard  Graveling  came  there, 
too." 

The  youth  struck  the  table  before  him.  His  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears. 

"  All  night  I  waited !  "  he  cried.  "  I  could  not  sit 
still.  I  could  scarcely  breathe.  Tell  me  what  he  is 
like,  Julia?  Tell  me  what  he  looks  like?  Is  he 
strong?  Does  he  look  strong  enough  for  the  work?  " 

She  smiled  at  him  reassuringly. 

"  Yes,  he  looks  strong  and  he  looks  kind.  For  the 
rest  — " 

"  There  is  something !  Tell  me  what  it  is  —  at 
once? " 

"  Foolish !  Well,  he  is  unlike  Richard  Graveling 
and  the  others,  unlike  us.  Why  not?  He  is  culti- 
vated, educated,  well-dressed." 

The  youth,  for  a  moment,  was  aghast. 

"  You  don't  mean  —  that  he  is  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  sense  you  fear,"  she  assured  him. 
"  Remember  that  his  work  is  more  far-reaching  than 
ours.  It  takes  him  everywhere;  he  must  be  fit  for 
everything.  Sit  down  now,  dear  Aaron.  You  are 
tired.  See,  my  morning  tea  is  ready,  and  there  is 
bread  and  butter.  You  must  eat  and  drink.  Mara- 
ton  you  will  surely  see  later  in  the  day.  I  do  not 
think  that  he  will  disappoint  you." 

Aaron  sat  down  at  the  table.     He  ate  and  drank 


46  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

ravenously.  He  was,  in  fact,  half  starved  but  barely 
conscious  of  it. 

"  He  spoke  of  the  great  things  ?  " 

Julia  shook  her  head.  She  was  busy  cutting 
bread  and  butter. 

"  Scarcely  at  all.  What  chance  was  there?  And 
then  Richard  Graveling  came." 

"  They  were  friends  ?  They  took  to  one  an- 
other? "  the  young  man  asked  eagerly. 

She  hesitated. 

"  I  am  not  sure  about  that.  Graveling  was  in  one 
of  his  tempers.  He  was  rude,  and  he  said  things  to 
me  which  I  felt  obliged  to  contradict." 

"They  did  not  quarrel?" 

She  laughed  softly. 

"  Imagine  Maraton  quarrelling !  I  think  that  he 
is  above  such  pettiness,  Aaron." 

"  Graveling  is  a  good  fellow  and  a  hard  worker," 
Aaron  declared.  "  The  one  thing  which  he  lacks  is 
enthusiasm.  He  doesn't  really  feel.  He  does  his 
work  well  because  it  is  his  work,  not  because  of  what 
it  leads  to." 

"  You  are  right,"  Julia  admitted.  "  He  has  no 
enthusiasm.  That  is  why  he  never  moves  people 
when  he  speaks.  I  must  go  soon,  Aaron.  Will  you 
lie  down  and  rest  for  a  time  here  ?  " 

"Rest!"  He  looked  at  her  scornfully.  "How 
can  one  rest!  Tell  me  where  this  house  of  his  is? 
I  shall  go  and  wait  outside.  I  must  see  him." 

She  glanced  at  the  clock,  and  paused  for  a  moment 
to  think. 

"  Aaron,"  she  decided,  "  I  will  be  late  for  once. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  47 

Come  with  me  and  I  will  take  you  to  him.  He  was 
kind  to  me  last  night.  We  will  go  together  to  his 
house  and  wait  till  he  is  down.  Then  I  will  tell  him 
how  you  have  longed  for  his  coming,  and  perhaps  — " 

"  Perhaps  what  ? "  Aaron  interrupted.  "  You 
can't  escape  from  it!  You  have  promised.  You 
shall  take  me !  I  am  ready  to  go.  Perhaps  what  ?  " 

"  I  was  only  thinking,"  she  went  on,  "  you  find  it, 
I  know,  impossible  to  settle  down  to  work  anywhere. 
But  with  him,  if  he  could  find  something  — " 

Aaron  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  I  would  work  my  fingers  to  the  bone ! "  he  cried. 
"  It  is  a  glorious  idea,  Julia.  I  have  to  give  up  the 
collecting  —  my  bicycle  has  gone.  Let  us  start." 

They  went  out  together  into  the  streets,  thinly 
peopled,  as  yet,  for  it  was  barely  six  o'clock.  Julia 
would  have  loitered,  but  her  brother  forced  her  always 
onward.  She  laughed  as  they  arrived  at  the  Square 
where  Maraton  lived.  Every  house  they  passed  was 
shuttered  and  silent. 

"  How  absurd  we  are !  "  she  murmured.  "  He  will 
not  be  up  for  hours.  Very  likely  even  the  servants 
will  not  be  astir." 

"  Servants !  " 

Aaron  repeated  the  word,  frowning.  She  only 
smiled. 

"  You  mustn't  be  foolish,  dear.  Don't  have  preju- 
dices. Remember  that  we  are  walking  along  a  very 
narrow  way.  We  have  climbed  only  a  few  steps  of 
the  hill.  He  is  more  than  half-way  to  the  top. 
Things  are  different  with  him.  Don't  judge;  only 
wait." 


48  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

She  rang  the  bell  of  the  house  a  little  timidly, 
The  door  was  opened  without  any  delay  by  a  man 
servant  in  sombre,  every-day  clothes. 

"  We  wish  to  see  Mr.  Maraton,"  Julia  announced. 
"  He  is  not  up  yet,  of  course,  but  might  we  come  in 
and  wait?  " 

"  Mr.  Maraton  is  in  his  study,  madam,"  the  man 
answered. 

He  disappeared  and  beckoned  them,  a  moment  or 
so  later,  to  follow  him.  They  were  shown  into  a 
much  smaller  apartment  at  the  rear  of  the  house. 
(Maraton  was  sitting  before  a  desk  covered  with 
papers,  with  a  breakfast  tray  by  his  side.  He  looked 
up  at  their  entrance,  but  his  face  was  inexpressive. 
He  did  not  even  smile.  The  sunlight  died  out  of 
Julia's  face,  and  her  heart  sank. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  began  haltingly.  "  I  ought 
not  to  have  come  again,  I  know.  But  it  is  my 
brother.  Night  and  day  he  has  thought  of  nothing 
else  but  your  coming." 

Aaron  seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  timidity.  He 
crossed  the  room  and  stood  before  Maraton's  desk. 
His  face  seemed  to  have  caught  some  of  the  fresh- 
ness of  the  early  morning.  He  was  no  longer  the 
sallow,  pinched  starveling.  He  was  like  a  young 
prophet  whose  eyes  are  burning  with  enthusiasm. 

"  You  have  come  to  help  us,"  he  asserted.  "  You 
are  Maraton ! " 

"  I  have  come  to  help  you,"  Maraton  replied.  "  I 
have  come  to  do  what  I  can.  It  isn't  an  easy  task 
in  this  country,  you  know,  to  do  anything,  but  I 
think  in  the  end  we  shall  succeed.  If  you  are  Julia 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  49 

Thurnbrein's  brother,  you  should  know  something 
of  the  work." 

"  I  am  only  one  of  the  multitude,"  Aaron  sighed. 
"  I  haven't  the  brains  to  organise.  I  talk  sometimes 
but  I  get  too  excited.  There  are  others  —  many 
others  —  who  speak  more  convincingly,  but  no  one 
feels  more  than  I  feel,  no  one  prays  for  the  better 
times  more  fervently  than  I.  It  isn't  for  myself  —  it 
isn't  for  ourselves,  even;  it's  for  the  children,  it's 
for  the  next  generation." 

Maraton  held  out  his  hand  suddenly. 

"  My  young  friend,"  he  said,  "  you  have  spoken 
the  words  I  like  to  hear.  Some  of  my  helpers  I  have 
found,  at  times,  selfish.  They  are  satisfied  with  the 
small  things  that  lie  close  at  hand,  some  material 
benefit  which  really  is  of  no  account  at  all.  That 
isn't  the  work  for  us  to  engage  in.  Sit  down.  Sit 
down,  Miss  Julia.  You  have  breakfasted?  " 

"  Before  we  left,"  Julia  assured  him. 

"  Never  mind,  you  shall  breakfast  again,"  Mara- 
ton declared.  "  It  is  a  good  augury  that  the  first 
words  I  have  heard  from  one  of  ourselves  have  been 
words  such  as  your  brother  has  spoken.  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  came  over  here  in  fear  and  trembling. 
Some  of  your  leaders  have  frightened  me  a  little." 

"  You  mean  — "  Aaron  began. 

"  That  they  don't  hold  their  heads  high  enough. 
I  am  not  for  strikes  that  finish  with  a  shilling  a  week 
more  for  the  men ;  or  for  Acts  of  Parliament  which 
dole  out  tardy  charity.  I  am  for  the  bigger  things. 
Last  night  I  lay  awake,  thinking  —  your  friend 
Richard  Graveling  set  me  thinking.  We  must  aim 


50  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

high.  I  am  here  for  no  man's  individual  good.  I 
am  here  to  plan  not  pinpricks  but  destruction." 

The  servant  brought  in  more  breakfast.  They  sat 
and  talked,  Maraton  asking  many  questions  concern- 
ing the  men  whom  he  would  meet  later  in  the  day. 
Then  he  looked  regretfully  at  the  great  pile  of  letters 
still  before  him. 

"  I  shall  need  a  secretary,"  he  said  slowly. 

Aaron  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Take  me,"  he  begged.  "  I  have  been  in  a  news- 
paper office.  I  am  slow  at  shorthand  but  I  can  type 
like  lightning.  I  will  work  morning  and  night.  I 
want  nothing  but  a  little  food  if  I  may  go  about 
with  you  and  hear  you  speak.  Oh,  take  me !  " 

Maraton  smiled. 

"  You  are  engaged,"  he  declared.  "  Go  out  and 
hire  a  typewriter  and  bring  it  here  in  a  cab.  You 
can  start  at  once,  I  hope?  " 

"  This  minute,"  Aaron  agreed,  his  voice  breaking 
with  excitement. 

Maraton  passed  him  money  and  took  them  both 
to  the  door. 

"  Tell  me  about  to-night?  "  Julia  asked.  "  Will 
you  go  to  the  Clarion  ?  Shall  you  speak  ?  " 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  No.  I  have  written  to  the  men  whom  I  am 
anxious  to  meet  here,  and  asked  them  to  come  to  me. 
I  should  prefer  not  to  speak  at  all  until  I  go  to 
Manchester.  I  have  plans,  but  I  must  not  speak  of 
them  for  the  moment." 

"  I  had  hoped  so  to  hear  you  speak  to-night,"  she 
murmured,  and  her  face  fell. 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  51 

They  stood  together  at  the  door  and  looked  out 
across  the  green  tree-tops  towards  the  city. 

"  The  time  has  gone  by  for  speeches,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  Perhaps  before  very  long  you  may  hear 
greater  things  than  words." 

They  hurried  off  —  Julia  to  the  factory,  Aaron 
to  a  typewriting  depot  in  New  Oxford  Street.  At 
the  corner  of  the  Square  they  parted. 

"  Are  you  satisfied?  "  she  asked. 

His  face  was  all  aglow. 

"  Satisfied !  Julia,  you  told  me  nothing !  He  is 
wonderful  —  splendid !  " 

She  climbed  on  to  a  'bus  with  a  little  smile  upon 
her  lips.  The  long  day's  work  before  her  seemed 
like  a  holiday  task.  Then  she  laughed  softly  as  she 
found  herself  repeating  her  brother's  fervid  words : 

"  Maraton  has  come !  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

Maraton  spent  three  hours  and  a  half  that  morn- 
ing in  conclave  with  the  committee  appointed  for  his 
reception,  and  for  that  three  hours  and  a  half  he  was 
profoundly  bored.  Every  one  had  a  good  deal  to 
say  except  Richard  Graveling,  who  sat  at  the  end 
of  the  table  with  folded  arms  and  a  scowl  upon  his 
face.  The  only  other  man  who  scarcely  opened  his 
lips  during  the  entire  time,  was  Maraton  himself. 
Peter  DaleJ,  Labour  Member  for  Newcastle,  was  the 
first  to  make  a  direct  appeal.  He  was  a  stalwart, 
grim-looking  man,  with  heavy  grey  eyebrows  and 
grey  beard.  He  had  been  a  Member  of  Parliament 
for  some  years  and  was  looked  upon  as  the  practical 
leader  of  his  party. 

"  We've  heard  a  lot  of  you,  Mr.  Maraton,"  he 
declared,  *'  of  your  fine  fighting  methods  and  of  your 
gift  of  speech.  We'll  hear  more  of  that,  I  hope, 
at  Manchester.  We  are,  so  to  speak,  strangers  as 
yet,  but  there's  one  thing  I  will  say  for  you,  and 
that  is  that  you're  a  good  listener.  You've  heard 
all  that  we've  got  to  say  and  you've  scarcely  made  a 
remark.  You  won't  object  to  my  saying  that  we're 
expecting  something  from  you  in  the  way  of  initiative, 
not  to  say  leadership  ?  " 

Maraton  glanced  down  the  table.  There  were  five 
men  seated  there,  and,  a  little  apart  from  all  of  them, 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  53 

David  Ross,  who  had  refused  to  be  shaken  off.  Ex- 
cepting him  only,  they  were  well-fed  and  substantial 
looking  men.  Maraton  had  studied  them  carefully 
through  half-closed  eyes  during  all  the  time  of  their 
meeting,  and  the  more  he  had  studied  them,  the  more 
disappointed  he  had  become.  There  was  not  one  of 
them  with  the  eyes  of  a  dreamer.  There  was  not 
one  of  them  who  appeared  capable  of  dealing  with 
any  subject  save  from  his  own  absolutely  material 
and  practical  point  of  view. 

Maraton  from  the  first  had  felt  a  seal  laid  upon 
his  lips.  Now,  when  the  time  had  come  for  him  to 
speak,  he  did  so  with  hesitation,  almost  with  reluc- 
tance. 

"  As  yet,"  he  began,  "  there  is  very  little  for  me 
to  talk  about.  You  are,  I  understand,  you  five,  a 
committee  appointed  by  the  Labour  Party  to  confer 
with  me  as  to  the  best  means  of  promulgating  our 
beliefs.  You  have  each  told  me  your  views.  You 
would  each,  apparently,  like  me  to  devote  myself  to 
your  particular  district  for  the  purpose  of  propa- 
gating a  strike  which  shall  result  in  a  trifling  increase 
of  wages." 

"  And  a  coal  strike,  I  say,"  Peter  Dale  inter- 
rupted, "  is  the  logical  first  course.  We've  been 
threatening  it  for  two  years  and  it's  time  we  brought 
it  oif.  I  can  answer  for  the  miners  of  the  north 
country.  We  have  two  hundred  and  seventy  thou- 
sand pounds  laid  by  and  the  Unions  are  spoiling  for 
a  fight.  Another  eighteen-pence  would  make  life  a 
different  thing  for  some  of  our  pitmen.  And  the 
masters  can  afford  it,  too.  Sixteen  and  a  half  per 


54  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

cent  is  the  average  dividend  on  the  largest  collieries 
around  us." 

A  small  man,  with  gimlet-like  black  eyes  and  a 
heavy  moustache,  at  which  he  had  been  tugging  ner- 
vously during  Peter  Dale's  remarks,  plunged  into 
the  discussion.  His  name  was  Abraham  Weavel  and 
he  came  from  Sheffield. 

"  Coal's  all  very  well,"  he  declared,  "  but  I  speak 
for  the  ironfounders.  There's  orders  enough  in 
Leeds  and  Sheffield  to  keep  the  furnaces  ablaze  for 
two  years,  and  the  masters  minting  money  at  it. 
Our  wages  ain't  to  be  compared  with  the  miners. 
We've  twenty  thousand  in  Sheffield  that  aren't  draw- 
ing twenty-five  shillings  a  week  and  they're  about 
fed  up  with  it.  We've  our  Unions,  too,  and  money 
to  spare,  and  I  tell  you  they're  beginning  to  ask 
what's  the  use  of  sending  a  Labour  Member  to  Par- 
liament and  having  nothing  come  of  it." 

A  grey-whiskered  man,  who  had  the  look  of  a 
preacher,  struck  the  table  before  him  with  a  sudden 
vigour. 

"You  remember  who  I  am,  Mr.  Maraton?  My 
name's  Borden  —  Samuel  Borden  —  and  I  am  from 
the  Potteries.  It's  all  very  well  for  Weavel  and 
Dale  there  to  talk,  "but  there's  no  labour  on  God's 
earth  so  underpaid  as  the  china  and  glass  worker. 
We  may  not  have  the  money  saved  —  that's  simply 
because  it  takes  my  people  all  they  can  do  to  keep 
from  starvation.  I've  figures  here  that'll  prove  what 
I  say.  I'll  go  so  far  as  this  —  there  isn't  a  worse 
paid  industry  than  mine  in  the  United  Kingdom." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.     Abraham  Weavel 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  55 

leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  yawned.  Peter  Dale 
made  a  grimace  of  dissent.  Maraton  turned  to  one 
of  the  little  company  who  as  yet  had  scarcely  opened 
his  lips  —  a  thin,  ascetic-looking,  middle-aged  man, 
who  wore  gold  spectacles,  and  who  had  an  air  of 
refinement  which  was  certainly  not  shared  by  any  of 
the  others. 

"  And  you,  Mr.  Culvain,"  he  enquired,  "  you  rep- 
resent no  particular  industry,  I  believe?  You  were 
a  journalist,  were  you  not,  before  you  entered  Par- 
liament? " 

"I  was  and  am  a  journalist,"  Culvain  assented. 
"  Since  you  have  asked  my  opinion,  I  must  confess 
that  I  am  all  for  more  peaceful  methods.  These 
Labour  troubles  which  inconvenience  and  bring  loss 
upon  the  community,  do  harm  to  our  cause.  I  am 
in  favour  of  a  vigorous  course  of  platform  educa- 
tion through  all  the  country  districts  of  England. 
I  think  that  the  principles  of  Socialism  are  not  prop- 
erly understood  by  the  working  classes." 

"  If  one  might  make  a  comment  upon  all  that  you 
have  said,"  Maraton  remarked,  "  I  might  point  out 
to  you  that  there  is  a  certain  selfishness  in  your  indi- 
vidual suggestions.  Three  of  you  are  in  favour  of 
a  gigantic  strike,  each  in  his  own  constituency.  Mr. 
Culvain,  who  is  a  writer  and  an  orator,  prefers  the 
methods  which  appeal  most  to  him.  Yet  even  these 
strikes  which  you  propose  are  puny  affairs.  You 
want  to  wage  war  for  the  sake  of  a  few  shillings. 
We  ought  to  fight,  if  at  all,  for  a  greater  and  more 
splendid  principle.  It  isn't  a  shilling  or  two  more 
a  week  that  the  people  want.  It's  a  share  —  a  share 


56  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

to  which  they  are,  without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt, 
entitled  —  in  the  direct  product  of  their  labour." 

"  That's  sound  enough,"  Peter  Dale  admitted. 
"  How  are  you  going  to  get  it  ?  " 

"  You  ask  for  too  much,"  Weavel  observed,  "  and 
you  get  nothing." 

"  It  is  never  wise,"  Culvain  suggested  quietly,  "  to 
have  the  public  against  one." 

Maraton  rose  a  little  abruptly  to  his  feet.  He 
had  the  air  of  one  eager  to  dismiss  the  subject. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  announced,  "  I've  heard  your 
views.  In  a  few  days'  time  you  shall  hear  mine. 
Only  let  me  tell  you  this.  To  me  you  all  seem  to  be 
working  and  thinking  on  very  narrow  lines.  Your 
object  seems  to  be  the  securing  of  small  individual 
benefits  for  your  individual  constituents.  I  think 
that  if  we  get  to  work  together  in  this  country, 
there  must  be  something  more  national  in  our  aspir- 
ations. That  is  all  I  have  to  say  for  the  present. 
As  I  think  you  know,  I  intend  to  make  a  pronounce- 
ment of  my  own  views  at  Manchester." 

They  all  took  their  leave  a  little  later.  Maraton 
himself  saw  them  out  and  watched  them  across  the 
Square.  Somehow  or  other,  his  depression  had 
visibly  increased  as  he  turned  away.  He  had  come 
into  contact  lately,  on  the  other  side  of  the  world, 
with  a  different  order  of  person  —  men  and  women, 
too,  passionately,  strenuously  in  earnest.  They 
were  well-fed,  prosperous  individuals,  these  whom  he 
had  just  dismissed.  Their  politics  were  their  busi- 
ress,  their  position  as  Members  of  Parliament  a 
source  of  unmixed  joy  to  all  of  them;  hard-headed 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  57 

men,  very  likely,  good  each  in  his  own  department; 
beyond  that,  nothing. 

He  returned  presently  to  his  study,  where  Aaron 
was  already  at  work,  typing  letters. 

"  So  that  is  your  committee  of  Labour  Members," 
Maraton  remarked,  throwing  himself  into  an  easy 
chair. 

Aaron  looked  up. 

"  They  are  all  sound  men,"  he  declared.  "  Peter 
Dale,  too,  is  a  fine  speaker." 

Maraton  sighed. 

"  Yet  it  isn't  from  them,"  he  said  quietly,  "  that 
I  can  take  a  mandate.  I  must  go  to  the  people.  I 
couldn't  even  talk  to  them  to-day.  I  couldn't  take 
them  into  my  confidence.  I  couldn't  show  them  the 
things  I  have  seen  perhaps  only  in  my  dreams.  I 
don't  suppose  they  would  have  listened.  .  .  .  How 
many  more  letters,  Aaron  ?  " 

"  Thirty-seven,  sir." 

Maraton  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  I  shall  walk  for  an  hour  or  so,"  he  announced. 
"  Get  them  ready  for  me  to  sign  when  I  come  in. 
Have  you  a  home,  young  man  ?  " 

"  None,  sir,"  Aaron  admitted. 

"  Excellent ! "  Maraton  declared  cheerfully. 
"  These  people  with  homes  lose  sight  of  the  real 
thing.  What  do  you  think  of  your  Labour  Mem- 
bers, honestly,  Aaron  ?  Ah,  I  can  see  that  they  have 
been  little  gods  to  you !  Little  tin  gods,  I  am  afraid, 
Aaron.  Do  they  know  what  it  is  to  go  hungry,  I 
wonder?  Not  often!  .  .  .  Get  on  with  your  letters. 
I  am  going  out." 


58  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Maraton  walked  to  the  Park  and  sat  down  under- 
neath the  trees.  There  were  a  fair  number  of  peo- 
ple about,  notwithstanding  the  hot  weather,  and  very 
soon  he  recognised  Lady  Elisabeth.  She  was  walk- 
ing back  and  forth  along  one  of  the  side-walks,  with 
a  little,  fussy  woman,  golden-haired,  and  wearing  a 
gown  of  the  brightest  blue.  Maraton  watched  them, 
at  first  idly  and  then  with  interest.  Lady  Elisabeth, 
in  her  cool  muslin  gown  and  simple  hat,  seemed  to  be 
moving  in  a  world  of  her  own,  into  which  her  com- 
panion's chatter  but  rarely  penetrated.  She  walked 
with  a  slow  and  delicate  grace,  not  without  a  charac- 
teristic touch  of  languor.  Once  or  twice  she  looked 
around  her  —  one  might  almost  have  imagined  that 
she  was  seeking  escape  from  her  companion  —  and 
on  one  of  these  occasions  her  eyes  met  Maraton's. 
She  stopped  short.  They  were  within  a  few  feet  of 
one  another,  and  Maraton  rose  to  his  feet.  She 
lowered  her  parasol  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Only  a  very  short  time  ago,"  she  told  him,  "  I 
was  wondering  what  you  were  doing.  You  know 
that  my  uncle  is  expecting  to  see  or  hear  from  you 
this  afternoon?  " 

"  I  know,"  he  admitted.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  came  out  here  to  think.  I  could  not  quite  make  up 
my  mind  what  to  say  to  him." 

"  It  is  strange  that  we  should  meet  here,"  she 
continued,  "  when  Mr.  Foley  was  talking  to  me  about 
you  for  so  long  this  morning.  He  wished  that  he 
had  laid  more  emphasis  upon  the  fact  that  your 
coming  to  us  at  Lyndwood  committed  you  to  nothing. 
No  one  is  the  worse  off  for  hearing  every  point  of 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  59 

view,  is  he?  My  uncle  will  feel  so  much  happier  if 
he  really  has  had  the  opportunity  of  having  a  long, 
uninterrupted  talk  with  you." 

Maraton  smiled  pleasantly.  They  were  standing 
in  a  crowded  part  of  the  walk  and  almost  uncon- 
sciously they  commenced  to  move  slowly  along  to- 
gether. Lady  Elisabeth  turned  to  her  companion. 

"  You  must  let  me  introduce  Mr.  Maraton  to  you," 
she  said.  "  This  is  Mr.  Maraton  —  Mrs.  Bolling- 
ton-Watts." 

The  little  woman  leaned  forward  and  looked  at 
Maraton  with  undisguised  curiosity. 

"  Forgive  my  starting  at  your  name,  won't  you, 
Mr.  Maraton  ?  "  she  began.  "  It  is  uncommon,  isn't 
it,  and  I'm  only  just  over  from  the  States.  I  dare 
say  you  read  about  all  those  awful  doings  in  Chi- 
cago." 

Maraton,  without  direct  reply,  inclined  his  head. 
Mrs.  Bollington-Watts  continued  volubly. 

"  My  brother  is  a  judge  out  in  Chicago.  It  was 
he  who  signed  the  warrant  for  Maraton's  arrest.  I'm 
afraid  our  people  are  getting  much  too  scared,  now- 
adays, about  that  sort  of  thing.  We  don't  seem 
to  be  able  to  enforce  our  laws  like  you  do  over  here. 
They  are  all  saying  now  that  it  ought  to  have  been 
served  and  the  man  shot  if  there  had  been  any  resist- 
ance." 

"  In  which  case,"  Maraton  remarked,  "  I  should 
not  have  had  the  pleasure  of  making  your  acquaint- 
ance, Mrs.  Bollington-Watts." 

She  stared  at  him  for  a  moment,  speechless 
through  sheer  lack  of  comprehension.  Then  she 


60  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

glanced  at  Lady  Elisabeth  and  the  truth  dawned  upon 
her.  It  was  more  than  she  could  grapple  with  at 
first,  however. 

"You?  But  Lady  Elisabeth — ?  But  you,  Mr. 
Maraton  —  are  you  really  the  man  who  mur  —  who 
was  associated  with  all  that  trouble  in  Chicago  ?  " 

"  I  am,  without  a  doubt,  the  man,"  Maraton  as- 
sented cheerfully.  "  I  am  an  enemy  of  your  class, 
Mrs.  Bollington-Watts.  Your  husband  is  the  steel 
millionaire,  isn't  he?  And  I  am  also  a  Socialist  of 
the  most  militant  and  modern  type.  Nevertheless,  I 
can  assure  you,  for  these  few  moments  you  are  per- 
fectly safe." 

Mrs.  Bollington-Watts  drew  a  little  breath.  The 
remarkable  adaptability  of  her  race  came  to  her 
rescue;  her  point  of  view  swung  round. 

"  Why,"  she  declared,  "  I  have  never  been  so  inter- 
ested in  my  life.  This  is  perfectly  thrilling.  Mr. 
Maraton,  I  am  having  a  few  friends  come  in  to-mor- 
row evening.  I  should  dearly  love  to  give  them  a 
surprise.  Couldn't  you  just  drop  in  for  an  hour? 
Or,  better  still,  if  you  could  dine?  I  have  taken 
Lenchester  House  for  a  year.  My,  it  would  be  good 
to  see  their  faces !  " 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  Mrs.  Bollington-Watts," 
he  said,  "  but  my  visit  to  England  is  one  of  business 
only.  To  be  frank  with  you,  I  have  no  social  exist- 
ence, nor  any  desire  to  cultivate  one." 

"  But  you  know  Lady  Elisabeth,"  the  little  woman 
protested. 

"  I  have  the  honour  of  knowing  Lady  Elisabeth 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  61 

incidentally,"  Maraton  replied.  "  If  you  will  excuse 
me  now — " 

Mrs.  Bollington-Watts  turned  aside  to  talk  vigor- 
ously to  a  passer-by.  Lady  Elisabeth  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  arm. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  she  said  softly,  "  do  make  up 
your  mind.  Please  come  to  Lyndwood." 

Her  blue  eyes  were  raised  to  his,  fearlessly,  appeal- 
ingly.  Maraton  was  more  than  ever  conscious  of 
the  delicate  perfection  of  her  person,  her  clear  skin, 
her  silky  brown  hair.  She  was  something  new  to 
him  in  her  sex.  He  knew  quite  well  that  a  request 
from  her  was  an  unusual  thing. 

"I  will  come,  Lady  Elisabeth,"  he  promised 
gravely.  "  Beyond  that,  of  course,  I  can  say  noth- 
ing. But  I  will  come  to  Lyndwood." 

The  slight  anxiety  passed  from  her  face  like  a 
cloud.  Her  smile  was  positively  brilliant. 

"  It  is  charming  of  you,"  she  whispered. 

Mrs.  Bollington-Watts  was  once  more  free  and 
by  their  side.  They  moved  on  to  the  corner  and 
Maraton  was  on  the  point  of  taking  his  leave.  Just 
at  that  moment  Mrs.  Bollington-Watts  gave  a  little 
cry  of  amazement.  A  coach  was  drawn  up  by  the 
side  of  the  path,  and  a  young  man  who  was  driving 
it,  was  looking  down  at  them.  Mrs.  Bollington- 
Watts  stopped  and  waved  her  hand  at  him  almost 
frantically. 

"  Why,  it's  Freddy  Lawes ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Why,  Freddy,  what  on  earth  are  you  doing  here? 
If  this  isn't  a  surprise!  They  told  me  you  never 
moved  from  Paris,  and  I  thought  I'd  have  to  come 


62  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

right  over  there  to  see  you.  .  .  .  Well,  I  declare! 
Freddy!  —  why,  Freddy,  what's  the  matter?" 

The  words  of  Mrs.  Bollington-Watts  seemed  as 
though  they  had  been  spoken  into  empty  air.  The 
young  man  was  leaning  forward  in  his  place,  the 
reins  loosely  held  in  his  hand,  and  a  groom  was 
already  upon  the  path,  recovering  the  whip  which 
had  slipped  from  his  fingers.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
not  upon  Mrs.  Bollington-Watts  nor  upon  Lady 
Elisabeth,  but  upon  Maraton.  He  was  a  young  man 
of  harmless  and  commonplace  appearance  but  his 
features  were  at  that  moment  transformed.  His 
mouth  was  strained  and  quivering,  his  eyes  were  lit 
with  something  very  much  like  horror.  Some  words 
certainly  left  his  lips,  but  they  did  not  carry  to  the 
hearing  of  any  one  of  those  three  people.  He  looked 
at  Maraton  with  the  fierce,  terrified  intentness  of 
one  who  looks  upon  a  spectre! 


CHAPTER  VII 

Mrs.  Bollington-Watts'  shrill  voice  once  more 
broke  the  silence,  which,  although  it  was  a  matter  of 
seconds  only,  was  not  without  a  certain  peculiar  dra- 
matic quality. 

"  Say,  what's  wrong  with  you,  Freddy?  You 
don't  think  I'm  a  ghost,  do  you?  Can't  you  come 
down  and  talk  ?  " 

The  spell,  whatever  it  may  have  been,  had  passed. 
The  young  man  lifted  his  hat  and  leaned  over  the 
side  of  the  coach. 

"  I  won't  get  down  just  now,  Amy,"  he  said. 
"  Tell  me  where  you  are  and  I'll  come  and  see  you. 
How's  Richard?" 

Maraton,  obeying  a  gesture  from  Lady  Elisabeth, 
moved  away  with  her,  leaving  Mrs.  Bollington-Watts 
absorbed  in  a  flood  of  family  questions  and  answers. 

"  Come  back  with  me  now,  won't  you  ?  "  she  asked, 
a  little  abruptly.  "  My  uncle  is  restless  and  unwell 
this  afternoon,  and  it  will  perhaps  relieve  him  to 
have  your  decision." 

"What  about  Mrs.  Bollington-Watts?" 

Lady  Elisabeth  glanced  at  him  for  a  moment. 
Her  eyebrows  were  slightly  lifted. 

"  If  you  can  bear  to  lose  her,  I'm  sure  I  can.  She 
is  really  rather  a  dear  person  but  she  is  very  intense. 
She  will  meet  a  crowd  of  people  she  knows,  directly, 


64  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

and  quite  forget  that  we  have  slipped  away.  Shall 
we  go  down  Birdcage  Walk,  or  if  you  are  in  a  hurry, 
perhaps  you  would  prefer  a  taxi  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  prefer  to  walk." 

He  did  not  at  first  prove  a  very  entertaining  com- 
panion. They  proceeded  for  some  distance  almost 
in  silence. 

"  If  I  were  a  curious  person,"  Lady  Elisabeth  re- 
marked, "  I  should  certainly  be  puzzling  my  brain  as 
to  what  there  could  have  been  about  that  very  frivol- 
ous young  man  to  call  such  an  expression  into  your 
face.  And  how  terrified  he  was  to  see  you !  " 

Maraton  smiled  grimly. 

"  You  have  observation,  I  perceive,  Lady  Elisa- 
beth." 

"  Powers  of  observation  but  no  curiosity,  thank 
goodness,"  Lady  Elisabeth  declared.  "  Perhaps  that 
is  just  as  well,  for  I  can  see  that  you  are  going  to 
turn  out  to  be  a  very  mysterious  person." 

"  In  some  respects  I  believe  that  I  am,"  he  assented 
equably.  "  My  peculiar  beliefs  are  responsible  for 
a  good  deal,  you  see  —  and  certain  circumstances. 
.  .  .  But  tell  me  —  we  have  both  agreed  to  be  frank 
—  why  have  you  changed  your  attitude  towards  me 
so  completely?  I  scarcely  dared  to  hope  even  for 
your  recognition  this  morning." 

She  was  suddenly  thoughtful. 

"  That  was  the  very  question  I  was  asking  myself 
when  we  crossed  the  street  just  now,"  she  remarked, 
with  a  faint  smile. 

Maraton  was  conscious  of  a  curious  and  undefined 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  65 

sense  of  pleasure  in  her  words.  In  the  act  of  cross- 
ing he  had  held  her  arm  for  a  few  moments,  and 
though  her  assent  to  his  physical  guidance  had  been 
purely  negative,  there  was  yet  something  about  it 
which  had  given  him  a  vague  pleasure.  Instinctively 
he  knew  that  she  was  of  the  order  of  women  to  whom 
the  merest  touch  from  a  man  whom  they  disliked  would 
have  been  torture. 

"  I  think,"  she  went  on,  "  that  it  is  because  I  am 
trying  to  adopt  my  uncle's  point  of  view  towards  you." 

"  And  what  is  your  uncle's  point  of  view  ?  " 

"  He  believes  you,"  she  declared,  "  to  be  a  very 
dangerous  person,  a  rabid  enthusiast  with  brains  and 
also  stability  —  the  most  difficult  order  of  person  in 
the  world  to  deal  with." 

"Anything  else?" 

"  He  believes  you,"  she  continued,  "  to  be  harmless 
enough  at  a  wholesome  period  of  our  country's  his- 
tory. Just  now,  he  told  me  yesterday,  that  he  con- 
sidered it  was  within  your  power  to  bring  something 
very  much  like  ruin  upon  the  country." 

Maraton  was  silent.  He  felt  singularly  indisposed 
for  argument.  Every  condition  of  life  just  then 
seemed  too  pleasant.  They  were  walking  in  the 
shade,  and  a  soft  west  wind  was  rustling  in  the  trees 
above  their  heads. 

"  There  are,  after  all,"  she  said,  "  so  many  happy 
people  in  the  world.  Is  it  worth  while  to  drag  down 
the  pillars,  to  bring  so  much  misery  into  the  world 
for  the  sake  of  a  dream  ?  " 

"  I  am  no  dreamer,"  he  insisted  quietly.  "  It  is 
possible  to  make  absolute  laws  for  the  future  with. 


66  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

the  same  precision  as  one  can  extract  examples  from 
the  history  of  the  past." 

"  But  human  nature,"  she  objected,  "  is  always  a 
shifting  quality." 

"  Only  in  detail.  The  heart  and  lungs  of  it  are  the 
same  in  all  ages." 

They  crossed  the  road  and  turned  into  St.  James's 
Park.  He  paused  for  a  moment  to  look  at  the  front 
of  Buckingham  Palace. 

"  A  hateful  sight  to  you,  of  course,"  she  murmured. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  he  assured  her.  "  On  the  con- 
trary, I  think  that  the  actual  government  of  this 
country  is  wonderful.  I  suppose  my  creed  of  life 
would  command  a  halter  from  any  one  who  heard  it, 
but  I  raise  my  hat  always  to  your  King." 

"  It  is  going  to  take  me  ages,"  she  sighed,  "  to 
understand  you." 

"  I  will  supply  you  with  the  necessary  signposts," 
he  promised.  "  Perhaps  you  will  find  then  that  the 
task  will  become  almost  too  easy.  For  me  I  am 
afraid  it  will  prove  too  short." 

She  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  him  curiously. 
There  was  something  provocative  in  the  curl  of  her 
lips  and  in  her  monosyllabic  question. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  when  you  have  arrived  at  a  complete 
understanding,"  he  declared,  "  I  fear  we  shall  have 
reached  the  parting  of  our  ways." 

She  looked  steadfastly  ahead. 

"  Wouldn't  that  rather  rest  with  you?  "  she  asked. 

They  passed  a  flower-barrow,  wonderfully  laden, 
and  she  half  stopped  with  a  little  exclamation. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  67 

"  Oh,  I  must  have  some  of  those  white  roses !  "  she 
begged.  "  They  fit  in  at  this  moment  with  one  of 
my  only  superstitions." 

He  bought  her  a  great  handful.  She  held  them 
in  both  hands  and  gave  him  her  parasol  to  carry. 

"  Mine  is  an  inherited  superstition,  so  I  will  not 
be  ashamed  of  it,"  she  told  him.  "  We  have  always 
believed  that  white  roses  bring  happiness,  especially 
if  they  come  accidentally  at  a  critical  moment." 

He  glanced  behind  at  the  retreating  figure  of  the 
flower  woman. 

"  If  happiness  is  so  easily  purchased,"  he  said, 
"  what  a  pity  it  is  that  I  did  not  buy  the  barrowf ul !  " 

"  It  isn't  a  matter  of  quantity  at  all,"  she  assured 
him.  "  One  blossom  would  have  been  enough  and 
you  were  really  frightfully  extravagant." 

She  drifted  into  silence.  They  were  walking  east- 
wards now,  and  before  them  was  the  great  yellow 
haze  which  hung  over  the  sun-enveloped  city,  a  haze 
which  stretched  across  the  whole  arc  of  the  heavens, 
and  underneath  which  were  toiling  the  millions  to 
whom  his  life  was  consecrated.  For  a  moment  the 
grim  inappropriateness  of  these  hours  struck  him 
with  a  pang  of  remorse.  He  felt  almost  like  a  traitor 
to  be  walking  with  this  slim,  beautiful  girl  whose  face 
was  hidden  from  him  now  in  the  mass  of  white  blos- 
soms. And  then  his  sense  of  proportion  came  to 
the  rescue.  He  knew  that  he  had  but  one  desire  — 
to  work  out  his  ends  by  the  most  effective  means.  It 
did  not  even  disturb  him  to  reflect  that  for  the  first 
time  for  many  years  he  had  found  pleasure  in  what 
was  merely  an  interlude. 


68  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  We  turn  here,"  she  directed.  "  You  see,  we  are 
close  to  home  now.  My  uncle  will  be  so  glad  to  see 
you,  Mr.  Maraton,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  de- 
lighted I  am  that  you  are  coming  to  Lyndwood." 

"  I  only  hope,"  he  said  a  little  gravely,  "  that 
your  uncle  will  not  expect  too  much  from  my  com- 
ing. It  seems  churlish  to  refuse,  and  even  though 
our  views  are  as  far  apart  as  the  poles,  I  know 
that  your  uncle  means  well." 

She  smiled  at  him  delightfully. 

"  I  refuse  to  be  depressed  even  by  your  solemn 
looks,"  she  declared.  "  It  is  my  twenty-fourth  birth- 
day to-day  and  I  am  still  young  enough  to  cling  to 
my  optimism." 

"  Your  birthday,"  he  remarked.  "  I  should  have 
brought  you  an  offering." 

She  held  up  the  roses. 

"  Nothing  in  the  world,"  she  assured  him  softly, 
"  could  have  given  me  more  pleasure  than  these. 
Now  I  am  going  to  take  you  first  into  a  little  den 
where  you  will  not  be  disturbed,  and  then  fetch  my 
uncle,"  she  added,  as  they  passed  into  the  house.  "  I 
shall  pray  for  your  mutual  conversion.  You  won't 
mind  a  very  feminine  room,  will  you?  Just  now 
there  are  certain  to  be  callers  at  any  moment,  and 
my  uncle's  rooms  are  liable  to  all  manner  of  intru- 
sions." 

She  threw  open  the  door  and  ushered  him  into  what 
seemed  indeed  to  be  a  little  fairy  chamber,  a  chamber 
with  yellow  walls  and  yellow  rug,  white  furniture, 
oddments  of  china  and  photographs,  silver-grey  etch- 
ings, water-colour  landscapes,  piles  of  books  and 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  69 

magazines.  On  a  small  table  stood  a  yellow  Sevres 
vase,  full  of  roses. 

"  It's  a  horrible  place  for  a  man  to  sit  in,"  she 
said,  looking  around  her.  "  You  must  take  that 
wicker  chair  and  throw  away  as  many  cushions  as 
you  like.  Now  I  am  going  to  fetch  my  uncle,  and 
remember,  please,"  she  concluded,  looking  back  at 
him  from  the  door,  "  if  I  have  seemed  frivolous  this 
morning,  I  am  not  always  so.  More  than  anything 
I  am  looking  forward,  down  at  Lyndwood,  to  have 
you,  if  you  will,  talk  to  me  seriously." 

"  Shall  I  dare  to  argue  with  you,  I  wonder  ?  "  he 
asked. 

She  smiled  at  him. 

"  Why  not  ?     A  matter  of  courage  ?  " 

"  The  bravest  person  in  the  world,"  he  declared, 
"  remembers  always  that  little  proverb  about  dis- 
cretion." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  conference  between  Mr.  Foley  and  Maraton 
was  brief  enough.  The  former  arrived  a  few  mo- 
ments after  his  niece's  departure. 

"  I  have  come,"  Maraton  announced,  as  they  shook 
hands,  "  to  accept  your  invitation  to  Lyndwood. 
You  understand,  I  am  sure,  that  that  commits  me 
to  nothing?  " 

Mr.  Foley's  expression  was  one  of  intense  relief. 

"  Naturally,"  he  replied.  "  I  quite  understand 
that.  I  am  delighted  to  think  that  you  are  coming 
at  all.  May  I  ask  whether  you  have  conferred  with 
your  friends  about  the  matter?  '* 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"I  have  not  even  mentioned  it  to  them.  I  met 
what  I  understand  to  be  a  committee  of  the  Labour 
Party  this  morning  —  a  Mr.  Dale,  Abraham  Weavel, 
Culvain,  Samuel  Borden  and  David  Ross.  Those 
were  the  names  so  far  as  I  can  remember.  I  did  not 
mention  my  proposed  visit  to  you  at  all.  There 
seemed  to  me  to  be  no  necessity.  I  am  subject  to 
no  one  here." 

Mr.  Foley  smiled. 

"  They  won't  like  it,"  he  declared  frankly. 

"  Their  liking  or  disliking  it  will  not  affect  the 
situation  in  the  least,"  Maraton  assured  him.  "  I 
shall  come,  without  a  doubt.  It  will  interest  me  to 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  71 

hear  what  you  have  to  say,  although  unfortunately  I 
cannot  hold  out  the  slightest  hope  — " 

"  That  is  entirely  understood,"  Mr.  Foley  inter- 
rupted. "  Now  how  will  you  come  ?  Lyndwood 
Park  is  just  sixty  miles  from  London.  To-day  is 
Friday,  isn't  it?  I  shall  motor  down  there  some- 
time to-morrow.  Why  won't  you  come  down  with 
me?" 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,"  he  said,  "  I  will  not  fix 
any  time  definitely.  I  have  a  good  deal  of  corre- 
spondence still  to  attend  to,  and  there  is  one  little 
matter  which  might  keep  me  in  town  till  the  after- 
noon." 

"  Let  me  send  a  car  up  for  you,"  Mr.  Foley  sug- 
gested. 

"  Thank  you,"  Maraton  replied,  "  I  have  already 
hired  one  for  a  time." 

"  Then  come  just  at  what  time  suits  you,"  Mr. 
Foley  begged, —  "  the  sooner  the  better,  of  course. 
Apart  from  that,  I  shall  be  about  the  place  all 
day." 

In  Buckingham  Gate,  Maraton  came  slowly  to  a 
standstill.  The  coach  which  he  had  seen  in  the  Park 
an  hour  ago  was  drawn  up  in  front  of  a  large  hotel. 
The  young  man  who  was  driving  it  had  just  come 
down  the  steps  and  was  drawing  on  his  gloves.  They 
met  almost  face  to  face. 

"  Am  I  to  speak  to  you?  "  the  young  man  asked. 

"  You  had  better,"  Maraton  assented.  "  Tell  me 
what  you  are  doing  here  ?  " 

"  I  was  bored  with  Paris,"  the  young  man  answered. 


72  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  My  friends  were  all  coming  here.  I  had  no  idea 
that  we  were  likely  to  meet." 

Maraton  looked  at  him  thoughtfully.  As  they 
stood  face  to  face  at  that  moment,  there  was  a  cer- 
tain strange  likeness  between  them,  a  likeness  of  the 
husk  only. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  interfere  with  your  movements," 
Maraton  said  calmly.  "  Where  you  are  is  nothing 
to  me.  I  proposed  that  you  should  remain  away 
from  London  simply  because  I  fancied  that  it  would 
be  easier  for  you  to  observe  the  conditions  which  exist 
between  us.  So  long  as  you  remember  them,  how- 
ever, your  whereabouts  are  indifferent  to  me." 

The  young  man  laughed  a  little  nervously. 

"  You're  not  over-cordial !  " 

Maraton  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  The  world  in  which  you  live,"  he  remarked,  "  is 
a  training  school,  I  suppose,  for  false  sentiment. 
The  slight  kinship  that  there  is  between  us  is  of  no 
account  to  me.  I  simply  remind  you  once  more  that 
it  is  to  your  advantage  to  neither  know  me  or  to 
know  of  me.  Remember  that,  and  it  may  be  London 
or  Paris  or  New  York  —  wherever  you  choose." 

The  young  man  remounted  his  coach,  and  Maraton 
passed  on.  He  walked  without  a  pause  to  the  square 
in  which  his  house  was  situated.  Here  he  found 
Aaron  hard  at  work  and,  sitting  down  at  once,  he 
began  to  sign  his  letters. 

"  No  end  of  people  have  been  here,"  Aaron 
announced.  "  I  have  got  rid  of  them  all." 

"  Good !  "  Maraton  said  shortly.  "  By-the-bye, 
Aaron,  isn't  there  a  meeting  to-night  at  the  Clarion?  " 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  73 

Aaron  nodded. 

"  David  Ross  is  going  to  speak.  He  can  move 
them  when  he  starts.  My  sister  is  going  to  call  here 
for  me,  and  I  thought  if  you  didn't  want  me,  I'd  like 
to  go." 

"  We  will  all  go  together,"  Maraton  decided.  "  We 
can  creep  in  somewhere  at  the  back,  I  suppose.  I 
want  to  hear  how  they  do  it." 

The  young  man's  face  lit  up  with  joy. 

"  There's  sure  to  be  lots  of  people  there,5'  he  de- 
clared, "  but  we  can  find  a  seat  at  the  back  quite 
easily." 

"  What's  it  all  about?  "  Maraton  asked. 

"  The  proposed  boiler-maker's  strike,"  Aaron  re- 
plied eagerly.  "  The  meeting  is  really  a  meeting  of 
the  workpeople  at  Boulding's.  But  are  you  sure  you 
won't  go  on  the  platform,  sir  ?  " 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  don't  want  to  do.  I  want 
to  see  what  these  meetings  are  like,  what  sort  of  argu- 
ments are  used,  what  the  spirit  of  the  people  is,  if  I 
can.  That  is  what  I  would  really  like  to  find  out, 
Aaron  —  the  spirit  of  the  people." 

The  young  man» looked  up  from  his  work.  He  was 
greatly  changed  during  the  last  few  hours.  He  was 
wearing  a  new  suit  of  clothes  and  clean  linen;  his 
hair  had  been  cut,  his  face  shaved.  Yet  in  some 
respects  he  was  unaltered.  His  eyes  still  burned  in 
their  sockets,  his  lips  still  quivered. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  the  people  are  like,"  he  said. 
"  They  are  like  dumb  animals,  like  sheep.  They  have 
suffered  so  long  and  so  much  that  their  nerve  power 


74  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

is  numbed.  They  lack  will,  they  lack  initiative. 
They  are  narrowed  down  to  a  daily  life  which  makes 
of  them,  something  little  different  from  an  animal. 
Yet  they  can  be  roused.  David  Ross  himself  has 
done  it,  done  it  like  none  of  those  other  M.P's.  I 
have  seen  him  carried  out  of  himself.  He  is  like 
some  of  these  Welshmen  and  Salvation  Army  people 
when  they're  half  drunk  with  religion  —  the  words 
seem  to  come  to  them  in  a  stream.  That's  how  David 
Ross  is  sometimes.  But  it  isn't  often  any  one  can  get 
at  them." 

"  That  is  what  they  say  over  on  the  other  side," 
he  remarked  softly. 

"  They've  got  to  be  in  such  a  state,"  Aaron  con- 
tinued, "  that  nothing  appeals  to  them  except  some 
material  benefit ;  a  pipe  of  tobacco  or  a  mug  of  beer 
will  stir  them  more  than  any  dream  of  freedom.  Oh ! 
it's  sad  to  see  them,  often.  I  used  to  go  to  the  gates 
at  the  shipbuilding  yard  and  watch  them  come  out. 
Ten  years  about  does  for  a  man  there.  It's  a  short 
spell." 

Maraton  sighed. 

"  Yet  they  endure,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 

"  Yet  they  endure,"  Aaron  echoed.  "  Can't  you 
see  why?  Don't  you  know  that  it  is  because  they 
haven't  heard  the  word  —  the  one  great  word  ? 
That's  what  they're  waiting  for  —  for  the  prophet 
to  open  their  eyes  and  lead  them  out  of  the  wilder- 
ness. Only  just  at  first  it  may  be  that  even  his  voice 
will  sound  in  vain.  You  are  sure  you  won't  mind 
my  sister  coming  with  us,  sir?  She  is  so  interested 
and  they  all  know  her  down  there." 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  75 

"  It  will  be  an  advantage  to  have  your  sister," 
Maraton  replied.  "  There  are  many  things  I  should 
like  to  ask  her." 


CHAPTER  IX 

At  twenty  minutes  past  eight,  Maraton,  with  his 
two  companions,  reached  the  building  in  which  the 
meeting  was  to  take  place  —  a  plain,  unimposing- 
looking  edifice,  built  for  a  chapel,  whitewashed  inside, 
but  with  plastered  walls  and  bare  floors.  The  room 
was  almost  packed,  and  it  was  with  some  difficulty 
that  they  found  seats  in  the  back  row.  David  Ross, 
Peter  Dale  and  Graveling  occupied  chairs  on  the  plat- 
form. Between  them,  Julia  and  Aaron  kept  Maraton 
informed  as  to  the  identity  of  each  newcomer. 

"  That's  Mr.  Docker,  who  is  going  to  speak  now," 
the  latter  declared  in  an  excited  whisper.  "  He  is  a 
fighting  man.  It's  he  who  has  manoeuvred  this  strike, 
they  say.  Now  he's  off." 

Mr.  Docker  has  risen  to  his  feet  amidst  a  little 
hoarse  cheering.  For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  more, 
he  spoke  fluently  and  convincingly.  It  appeared  from 
his  statements  that  boiler-makers  were  the  worst  paid 
mechanics  in  the  universe,  that  it  was  he  who  had 
discovered  this,  that  it  was  he  who  had  drawn  up  the 
ultimatum  which  had  been  presented  to  the  masters 
and  refused.  His  peroration  was  friendly  but  ap- 
pealing. 

"  There  are  some  amongst  Boulding's  people,"  he 
wound  up,  "  who,  they  tell  me,  are  satisfied.  If  so, 
I  hope  they  are  not  here.  They  haven't  any  place 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  77 

here.  To  them  I  would  say  —  *  If  you  are  satisfied 
with  twenty-four  shillings  a  week,  well,  don't  waste  a 
penny  in  subscribing  to  the  Unions,  but  go  and  spend 
your  twenty-four  shillings  a  week  and  live  on  it  and 
enjoy  it,  and  get  fat  on  it  if  you  can.'  But  to  those 
others  I  want  to  say  that  it's  just  as  easy  to  get 
twenty-eight.  The  masters  don't  want  you  to  strike 
just  now.  You  only  have  to  be  firm  and  you  can  get 
what's  fair  and  right." 

A  man  rose  up  in  the  hall. 

"  Is  it  true,"  he  asked,  "  that  Boulding's  won't  pay 
the  advance  ?  — »-  that  they  are  going  to  close  the  doors 
to-morrow  if  we  insist  upon  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  true,"  Mr.  Docker  answered.  "  Are  you 
afraid  of  that?" 

The  man  hesitated. 

"  I  don't  know  as  '  afraid '  is  exactly  the  word," 
he  said,  "  but  I  don't  fancy  being  out  of  work  for  a 
month  or  so,  and  perhaps  losing  my  job  at  the  end  of 
it.  Fifteen  bob  a  week  from  the  Union  won't  keep 
my  little  lot." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  applause.  Docker  pointed 
with  threatening  forefinger  to  the  man  who  had  just 
sat  down. 

"  It's  the  likes  of  him,"  he  declared,  "  who  keep 
down  wages,  who  make  slaves  of  us !  The  likes  of 
him,  who  haven't  the  pluck  to  ask  for  what  they  might 
get  at  any  time !  " 

He  plunged  into  facts  and  figures,  and  Maraton 
more  than  once  yawned.  He  seemed  to  find  more 
interest  in  watching  the  faces  of  the  audience  than  in 
listening  to  the  stock  arguments  which  were  being 


78  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

thrown  at  their  heads.  A  little  cloud  of  tobacco 
smoke  hung  about  the  room.  There  were  few  women 
present,  and  most  of  the  men  were  smoking.  On  the 
whole  they  were  a  very  earnest  gathering.  There 
were  very  few  there  who  were  not  deeply  interested. 
Julia  was  listening  to  every  word,  her  head  resting 
upon  her  hand,  her  lips  a  little  parted,  her  eyes  full 
of  smouldering  fires.  At  the  end  of  Docker's  speech, 
one  of  the  Union  officials  got  up  on  his  feet.  It 
was  for  the  men  themselves  to  decide,  he  said.  They 
had  subscribed  the  money;  it  was  for  them  to  say 
whether  it  should  be  used.  Was  the  moment  pro- 
pitious for  a  blow  on  behalf  of  their  rights?  If 
they  thought  so,  then  let  it  be  war.  If  they  asked 
for  his  advice,  they  were  welcome  to  it.  His  advice 
was  to  fight.  The  masters  had  refused  their  rea- 
sonable ultimatum.  Let  the  masters  try  and  carry 
out  their  contracts  without  work  people!  That  was 
his  way  of  looking  at  it. 

There  was  a  rumble  of  applause.  The  militants 
were  certainly  in  the  majority.  A  man  got  up  from 
one  of  the  front  rows. 

"  I  propose,"  he  said,  "  that  we  strike  to-morrow. 
They  are  working  us  as  hard  as  they  can  in  shifts 
on  special  jobs  now,  in  case  they  should  get  left. 
Every  hour  we  work  makes  it  better  for  them.  I 
say  *  Strike!'" 

There  was  a  thunder  of  applause.  A  ballot  box 
was  brought  and  placed  on  a  table  in  front  of  the 
platform. 

"  They  will  strike,"  Aaron  muttered, — "  three 
thousand  of  them !  Splendid !  '* 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  79 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  piecemeal  work,  this.  They  do  not  under- 
stand." 

"  They  do  not  understand  what?  "  Julia  asked 
him,  turning  her  head  swiftly. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  They  will  ask  for  five  shillings  a  week  more  and 
get  half-a-crown,"  he  said.  "  Half-a-crown  a  week ! 
What  difference  can  it  make?  Do  you  know  what 
Boulding's  put  on  one  side  for  distribution  to  their 
shareholders  last  year?  —  what  they  put  to  their 
reserve  fund?  Why,  it  was  a  fortune  1" 

A  man  from  somewhere  at  the  back  of  the  hall 
climbed  on  to  a  seat  to  get  a  better  view  and  suddenly 
pointed  out  Maraton  to  his  neighbours.  A  little 
murmur  arose  from  the  vicinity.  Some  one  men- 
tioned his  name.  The  cry  was  taken  up  from  the 
other  side  of  the  hall. 

"Maraton!" 

"Maraton!" 

Maraton  sat  back,  frowning.  The  cries,  however, 
became  more  insistent.  The  occupants  of  the  plat- 
form were  leaning  forward  towards  him.  The  chair- 
man rose  to  his  feet  and  beckoned.  With  obvious 
reluctance,  Maraton  moved  a  few  steps  to  the  front. 
From  the  far  corners  of  the  ill-lit  hall,  white-faced 
men  climbed  on  to  the  benches,  peering  through  the 
cloud  of  smoke  which  hung  almost  like  fog  about 
the  place.  They  saluted  him  in  all  manner  of  ways 
—  with  cat-calls,  hurrahs,  stamping  of  feet,  clapping 
of  hands.  Maraton,  who  had  climbed  up  on  to  the 
platform,  was  soon  surrounded. 


8o  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Dale  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Thought  you  weren't  going  to  honour  us  here, 
Mr.  Maraton,"  he  remarked  gruffly. 

"  I  had  not  meant  to,"  Maraton  replied.  "  I 
came  as  one  of  the  audience.  I  wanted  to  hear,  to 
understand  if  I  could." 

Dale  stretched  out  his  hand. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Docker,"  he  said,  performing  the 
introduction.  "  Mr.  Docker  —  Mr.  Maraton." 

"  Come  to  support  us,  sir,  I  hope  ?  "  the  former 
remarked. 

"  I  came  to  listen,"  Maraton  answered.  "  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  it's  against  my  views,  this,  an  indi- 
vidual strike." 

They  were  calling  to  him  now  from  the  front. 
Mr.  Docker's  reply  was  inaudible. 

"  You'll  have  to  say  a  few  words,"  Dale  insisted. 
"  They'll  never  leave  off  until  you  do." 

Maraton  nodded  and  turned  towards  the  audience. 
He  stood  looking  down  at  them  for  a  moment  or  two, 
without  speech.  Even  after  silence  had  been  estab- 
lished he  seemed  to  be  at  a  loss  as  to  exactly  what 
to  say.  When  at  last  he  did  speak,  it  was  in  an 
easy  and  conversational  manner.  There  was  no 
sign  of  the  fire  or  the  frenzy  with  which  he  had 
kindled  the  enthusiasms  of  the  people  of  the  United 
States. 

"  I  find  it  rather  hard  to  know  exactly  what  to  say 
to  you,"  he  began.  "  I  am  glad  to  be  here  and  I 
have  come  to  this  country  to  work  for  you,  if  I 
may.  But,  you  know,  I  have  views  of  my  own,  and 
it  isn't  a  very  auspicious  occasion  for  me  to  stand 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  81 

for  the  first  time  upon  an  English  platform.  I  came 
as  one  of  the  audience  to-night  and  I  have  listened 
to  all  that  has  been  said.  I  don't  think  that  I  am 
in  favour  of  your  strike." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  wonder,  mingled  with  dis- 
content. 

"  Why  not?  "  some  one  shouted  from  the  back. 

"  Aye,  why  not  ?  "  a  dozen  voices  echoed. 

"  I'll  try  and  tell  you,  if  you  like,"  Maraton  con- 
tinued. "  I  didn't  mean  to  say  anything  until  after 
Manchester,  but  I'll  tell  you  roughly  what  my  scheme 
is.  These  individual  strikes  such  as  you're  planning 
are  just  like  pinpricks  on  the  hide  of  an  elephant. 
How  many  are  there  of  you?  A  thousand,  say? 
Well,  you  thousand  may  get  a  shilling  or  two  a  week 
more.  It  won't  alter  your  condition  of  life.  It 
won't  do  much  for  you,  any  way.  You* will  have 
spent  your  money,  and  in  a  year  or  two  the  masters 
M'ill  be  taking  it  out  of  you  some  other  way.  A 
strike  such  as  you  are  proposing  causes  inconve- 
nience —  no  more.  I'd  bigger  things  in  my  mind  for 
you." 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment  as  though  uncertain, 
even  now,  whether  to  go  on.  Glancing  around  the 
hall,  his  eyes  for  a  moment  met  Julia's.  Something 
in  her  still  face,  the  almost  passionate  enquiry  of  her 
wonderful  eyes,  seemed  to  decide  him.  He  lifted  up 
his  hands,  his  voice  grew  in  volume. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  what  I  want,  then.  Let  me  tell 
you  the  dream  which  others  have  had  before  me, 
which  is  laughed  to  scorn  by  the  enemies  of  the 
people,  but  which  grows  in  substance  and  shape,  year 


82  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

by  year.  I  want  to  teach  you  how  to  smash  th* 
individual  capitalist.  I  want  to  teach  you  how  to 
frame  laws  which  will  bring  the  wealth  of  this  coun- 
try into  a  new  and  saner  distribution.  I  want  to 
teach  you  the  folly  of  the  old  ideas  that  because  of 
the  wretched  conditions  in  which  you  live,  the  better 
educated  man,  the  man  better  equipped  mentally  and 
physically  for  his  job,  must  gather  to  himself  the 
wealth  and  you  must  become  his  slaves.  What  do 
you  suppose,  in  the  course  of  three  or  four  gener- 
ations, produces  men  of  different  mental  and  physical 
calibre  ?  I  will  tell  you.  The  circumstances  of  their 
bringing-up,  the  life  they  have  to  lead,  their  educa- 
tion, their  environment.  What  chance  have  you 
under  present  conditions?  None!  For  very  shame, 
as  the  years  pass  on,  you  operatives  will  be  better 
paid.  \\JJiat  will  it  amount  to?  A  few  shillings  a 
week  more,  the  same  life,  the  same  anxieties,  the  same 
daily  grinding  toil,  brainless,  machine-like,  leading 
you  nowhere  because  there  isn't  a  way  out.  There 
will  still  remain  your  masters ;  there  will  still  remain 
you,  the  men.  Can't  you  see  what  it  is  that  I  am 
aiming  at?  I  want  to  make  a  great  machine  of  all 
the  industries  of  this  country.  The  man  with  the 
gift  for  figures  will  find  himself  in  the  office,  and 
the  man  with  lesser  brain  power  will  find  himself 
before  a  machine.  But  the  two  will  be  working  for 
one  aim  and  one  end.  They  will  both  be  parts  of 
the  machine,  and  for  their  livelihood  they  will  take 
what  that  machine  produces,  distributed  in  a  scien- 
tific and  exact  ratio.  It's  co-operation  over  again, 
you  say?  Very  well,  call  it  that.  Only  I  tell  you 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  83 

why  co-operation  has  failed  up  till  now.  It's  because 
you've  been  in  too  much  of  a  hurry.  I  am  going 
to  appeal  to  you  presently,  not  for  your  own  inter- 
ests but  in  the  interests  of  your  children  and  your 
children's  children,  because  the  better  days  that  are 
to  come  for  you  won't  dawn  yet  awhile.  It  may  be, 
even,  that  you  will  be  called  upon  to  make  sacrifices, 
instead  of  finding  yourselves  better  off.  There  are 
some  great  changes  which  time  alone  can  govern." 

"  What  about  this  strike  ?  "  some  one  shouted  from 
the  bottom  of  the  hall. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  sir,"  Maraton  replied 
swiftly.  "  I've  wandered  a  little  from  my  point.  I 
think  that  the  first  thing  I  said  to  you  was  that  this 
strike,  if  it  took  place,  would  be  like  the  pinprick 
on  an  elephant's  hide.  I  want  to  teach  you  how  to 
stab!" 

There  was  a  murmur  of  voices  —  approving  this 
time,  at  any  rate. 

"  Can't  you  see,"  Maraton  continued,  "  that  So- 
ciety can  easily  deal  with  one  strike  at  a  time  ?  That 
isn't  the  way  to  make  yourself  felt.  What  I  want 
to  see  in  this  country  is  a  simultaneous  strike  of 
wharfingers,  dock  labourers,  railways,  and  all  the 
means  of  communication;  a  strike  which  will  stop 
the  pulses  of  the  nation,  a  strike  which  will  cost  hun- 
dreds of  miUions,  a  strike  which  may  cost  this 
country  its  place  amongst  the  nations,  but  which 
will  mark  the  dawn  of  new  conditions.  I'd  put  out 
your  forge  fires  from  Glasgow  to  Sheffield  and  Shef- 
field to  London.  I'd  take  the  big  risks  —  the  riot- 
ing, the  revolutions,  the  starvation,  the  misery  that 


84  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

will  surely  come.  I'd  do  that  for  the  sake  of  the 
new  nation  which  would  start  again  where  the  old 
one  perished." 

There  was  a  sudden  burst  of  applause.  A  little 
thrill  seemed  to  have  found  its  way,  like  zig-zag 
lightning,  here  and  there  amongst  them.  But  there 
were  many  who  sat  and  smoked  in  stolid  silence. 
Maraton  looked  into  their  faces  and  sighed  to  him- 
self. There  were  too  many  hungry  people  for  his 
mission. 

"  We  are  half  starved,"  a  man  called  from  the 
back  of  the  hall.  "  My  wage  is  a  pound  a  week  and 
four  children  to  keep.  It's  fine  talk,  yours,  but  it 
won't  feed  'em." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  sullen  approval.  Mara- 
ton's  hand  shot  out,  his  finger  quivered  as  it  pointed 
to  the  man. 

"  I  don't  blame  you,"  he  said,  "  but  it's  the  cry 
you've  just  raised  which  keeps  you  and  a  few  other 
millions  exactly  in  the  places  you  occupy.  There  are 
many  generations  as  yet  unborn,  to  come  from  your 
children  and  your  children's  children.  Are  they, 
then,  to  suffer  as  you  have  suffered?  " 

There  was  a  little  stir  at  the  back  of  the  platform. 
A  tall,  broad-shouldered  man  pushed  his  way  through 
to  the  front.  His  face  was  pitted  with  smallpox; 
he  had  black,  wiry  hair;  small,  narrow  eyes;  a  large, 
brutal  mouth.  He  took  up  his  position  in  the  middle 
of  the  platform,  ignoring  Maraton  altogether. 

"  Listen,  lads,"  he  began ;  "  you  are  here  to-night 
to  decide  whether  or  not  you  want  another  half- 
crown  on  to  your  wages.  This  man  who  has  been 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  85 

talking  to  you  has  done  big  things  in  America.  I 
know  nothing  about  him  and  I'm  not  rightly  sure 
that  I  know  what's  at  the  back  of  his  head.  If  he 
is  your  friend,  he's  our  friend,  and  we  shall  soon  fall 
into  line,  but  to-night  you're  here  to  meet  about  that 
half-crown.  It's  for  you  to  say  whether  or  no  you'll 
have  it.  We've  saved  the  money  for  the  fight,  saved 
it  from  your  wages,  got  it  with  your  sweat.  You've 
given  up  your  beer  for  it  —  aye,  and  maybe  your 
baccy.  We've  saved  the  money  and  the  time's  come 
to  fight.  All  that  he  says" — jerking  his  elbow 
towards  Maraton  —  "  sounds  good  enough.  That'll 
come  in  later.  Are  you  for  the  strike  ?  " 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  reply  —  a  roar  of 
approving  voices.  Maraton  smiled  at  them  and 
stepped  down  from  the  platform.  For  the  moment 
he  was  forgotten.  Only  Julia  whispered  passion- 
ately in  his  ear  as  they  moved  out  of  the  place. 

"  You  should  have  gone  on.  They  didn't  under- 
stand. They  have  waited  so  long,  they  could  have 
waited  a  little  longer." 

Maraton  did  not  answer  until  they  reached  the 
street.  Then  he  stood  a  few  steps  in  the  background, 
watching  the  people  as  they  came  out. 

"  I  couldn't,"  he  said  simply.  "  I  felt  as  though 
I  were  offering  stones  for  bread.  The  stones  were 
better,  perhaps,  but  the  cruelty  was  the  same." 


CHAPTER  X 

Maraton  walked  alone  with  Elisabeth  on  the  fol- 
lowing afternoon  in  the  flower  garden  at  Lyndwood. 
She  was  apologising  for  some  unexpected  additions 
to  the  number  of  their  guests. 

"  Mother  always  forgets  whom  she  has  asked  down 
for  the  week-end,"  she  said,  "  and  my  uncle  is  far 
too  sweet  about  it.  I  know  that  he  wanted  to  have 
as  much  time  as  possible  alone  with  you  before  Mon- 
day. It  is  on  Monday  you  go  to  Manchester, 
isn't  it?" 

"  On  Monday,"  he  answered,  a  little  absently.  "  I 
have  to  make  my  bow  to  the  democracy  of  your 
country  in  the  evening." 

"  I  wish  I  could  make  up  my  mind,  Mr.  Maraton," 
she  continued,  "  whether  you  have  come  over  here 
for  good  or  for  evil." 

"  For  evil  that  good  may  come  of  it,  I  am  afraid," 
he  rejoined,  "  would  be  the  kindest  interpretation 
you  could  put  upon  my  enterprise  here." 

"  The  Spectator  calls  you  the  Missionary  of  Un- 
rest." 

"  The  Spectator,  I  am  afraid,  will  become  more  vio- 
lent later  on." 

"  Let  us  sit  down  here  for  a  moment,"  she  sug- 
gested, pointing  to  a  seat.  "You  see,  we  are  just 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  87 

at  the  top  of  this  long  pathway,  and  we  get  a  view 
of  the  roses  all  the  way  down." 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,"  he  admitted, —  "  far  too 
beautiful." 

She  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"Too  beautiful?     Is  that  possible?" 

"  Without  a  doubt,"  he  declared.  "  Too  much 
beauty  is  as  bad  as  too  little." 

"  And  why  is  that  ?  Surely  it  must  be  good  for 
one  to  be  surrounded  by  inspiring  things?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  beauty  does  inspire  anything 
except  content,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "  I  call  this 
garden  of  yours,  for  instance,  a  most  vicious  place, 
a  perfect  lotus-eater's  Paradise.  Positively,  I  feel 
the  energy  slipping  out  of  my  bones  as  I  sit  here." 

"  Then  you  shall  be  chained  to  that  seat,"  she 
threatened.  "  You  will  not  be  able  to  go  to  Man- 
chester and  make  trouble,  and  my  uncle  will  be  able 
to  sleep  at  nights." 

"  I  feel  that  everything  in  life  is  slipping  away 
from  me,"  he  protested.  "  I  ought  to  be  thinking 
over  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  your  country  people, 
and  instead  of  that  I  am  wondering  whether  there  is 
anything  more  beautiful  in  the  world  than  the  blue 
haze  over  your  meadows." 

She  laughed,  and  moved  her  parasol  a  little  so 
that  she  could  see  him  better. 

"  You  know,"  she  said,  "  my  uncle  declares  that 
if  only  you  could  be  taught  to  imbibe  a  little  more 
of  the  real  philosophy  of  living,  you  would  become 
quite  a  desirable  person." 

"  And  what  is  the  real  philosophy  of  living?  " 


88  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Just  now,  with  him,  it  is  the  laissez  faire,  the 
non-interference  with  the  essential  forces  of  life, 
especially  the  forces  that  concern  other  people,"  she 
explained. 

He  looked  at  her,  a  little  startled.  What  instinct, 
he  wondered,  had  led  her  to  place  her  finger  upon  the 
one  poison  spot  in  his  thoughts? 

"  I  can  see,"  he  remarked,  "  that  I  have  found  my 
way  into  a  dangerous  neighbourhood." 

She  changed  her  position  a  little,  so  as  to  face 
him.  Her  blue  eyes  were  lit  with  laughter,  her  lips 
mocked  him.  Usually  reserved,  she  seemed  at  that 
moment  to  be  inspired  with  an  instinct  which  was 
something  almost  more  than  coquetry.  She  leaned 
a  little  towards  him.  The  aloofness  of  her  carriage 
and  manner  had  suddenly  disappeared.  He  was  con- 
scious of  the  perfection  of  her  white  muslin  gown,  of 
the  shape  of  her  neck,  the  delicate  lines  and  grace  of 
her  slim  young  body. 

"  You  shall  be  chained  here,"  she  repeated.  "  My 
uncle  has  a  new  theory  of  individualism.  He  thinks 
that  if  no  one  tried  to  improve  anybody,  the  world 
would  be  so  much  more  livable  a  place.  Shall  we  sit 
at  his  feet?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  not  brave,"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  at  least 
discreet." 

"  Do  you  think  that  you  are  ?  "  she  asked  him 
quietly.  "  Do  you  think  that  you  are  discreet  in  the 
sense  of  being  wise?  Are  you  sure  that  you  are  using 
your  gifts  for  the  best  purpose,  for  yourself  —  and 
other  people?  " 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  89 

"  No  one  can  be  sure,"  he  replied.  "  I  only  follow 
my  star." 

"  Then  are  you  sure  that  it  is  your  star?  " 

"  No  one  can  ever  mistake  that,"  he  declared. 
"  Sometimes  one  may  lose  one's  way,  and  one  may 
even  falter  if  the  path  is  rugged.  But  the  star  re- 
mains." 

She  sighed.  Her  eyes  seemed  to  have  wandered 
away.  He  felt  that  it  was  a  trick  to  avoid  looking 
at  him  for  the  moment. 

"  I  do  not  want  you  to  go  to  Manchester  on  Mon- 
day in  your  present  mood,"  she  said.  "  I  hate  to 
think  of  you  up  there,  the  stormy  petrel,  the  apostle 
of  unrest  and  sedition.  If  I  were  a  Roman  woman, 
I  think  that  I  would  poison  you  to-night  at  dinner- 
time." 

"  Quite  an  idea,"  he  remarked.  "  I  am  not  at  all 
sure  that  our  having  become  too  civilised  for  crime 
is  a  healthy  sign  of  the  times." 

"  I  do  wish,"  she  persisted,  "  that  you  would  try 
and  see  things  a  little  more  humanly.  My  uncle  is 
full  of  enthusiasms  about  you.  You  have  had  some 
conversation  already,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  We  talked  for  an  hour  after  luncheon,"  Maraton 
admitted.  "  Your  uncle's  is  a  very  sane  point  of 
view.  I  know  just  how  he  regards  me  —  a  sort  of 
dangerous  enthusiast,  a  firebrand  with  the  knack  of 
commanding  attention.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  when 
I  am  with  him,  he  almost  makes  me  feel  like  that 
myself." 

She  laughed. 

"  All  men  of  genius,"  she  declared,  "  must  be  im- 


go  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

pressionable.  We  ought  to  set  ourselves  to  discover 
your  weak  point." 

He  smiled  at  her  with  upraised  eyebrows.  There 
were  times  when  he  seemed  to  her  like  a  boy. 

"  Haven't  you  discovered  it?  " 

She  made  a  little  face  and  swung  her  parasol 
around.  When  she  spoke  again,  she  was  very  grave. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  she  begged,  "  please  will  you 
promise  that  before  you  go  away,  you  will  talk  to 
me  again  for  a  few  minutes  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  promise  easily  made ! "  he  replied. 

"  But  I  mean  seriously." 

"  I  will  talk  to  you  at  any  time,  anyhow  you  wish," 
he  promised. 

She  rose  to  her  feet  then. 

"  For  the  present  you  have  promised  to  play  ten- 
nis," she  reminded  him.  "  Please  go  and  change 
your  things." 

"  I  must  have  a  yellow  rosebud  for  my  button- 
hole," he  begged. 

She  arranged  it  herself  in  his  coat.  He  laughed 
as  she  swept  aside  a  wisp  of  her  hair  which  brushed 
his  cheek. 

"  What  a  picture  for  the  photographic  Press  of 
America ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  The  anarchist  of  Chi- 
cago and  the  Prime  Minister's  niece ! " 

"  What  is  an  anarchist  ?  "  she  asked  him  abruptly. 

He  opened  the  little  iron  gate  which  led  out  of  the 
garden. 

"  A  sower  of  fire  and  destruction,"  he  answered, 
"  a  highly  unpleasant  person  to  meet  when  he's  in 
earnest." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  91 

She  looked  into  his  face  for  a  moment  with  a  wist- 
fulness  which  was  almost  passionate. 

"  Please  tell  me  at  once,  that  you  aren't  — " 

He  pointed  back  to  the  garden. 

"  We  have  come  out  of  the  land  of  confessions. 
On  this  side  of  the  gate  I  am  your  uncle's  guest,  and 
I  mustn't  be  teased  with  questions." 

"  Before  you  go,"  she  threatened,  "  I  shall  take 
you  back  into  the  rose-garden." 

From  their  wicker  chairs  drawn  under  a  great 
cedar  tree,  Mr.  Foley  and  Lord  Armley,  perhaps  the 
most  distinguished  of  his  colleagues,  watched  the 
slow  approach  of  the  two  from  the  flower  gardens. 
Lord  Armley,  who  had  only  arrived  during  the  last 
half  hour,  was  recovering  from  a  fit  of  astonishment. 
He  had  just  been  told  of  his  fellow  guest. 

"  Granted,  even,  that  the  man  is  as  dangerous  as 
you  say,"  he  remarked,  "  it  is  certainly  creating  a 
new  precedent  for  you  to  bring  him  into  the  bosom 
of  your  family.  Is  it  conversion,  bribery,  or  poison 
that  you  have  in  your  thoughts  ?  " 

"  Influence,  if  possible,"  Mr.  Foley  answered. 
"  Somehow  or  other,  I  have  always  detected  in  his 
writing  a  vein  of  common  sense." 

"  What  the  dickens  is  common  sense ! "  Lord 
Armley  growled. 

"Shall  I  say  a  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things?" 
the  Prime  Minister  replied, —  "  a  sense  of  propor- 
tion, perhaps?  Notwithstanding  his  extraordinary 
speeches  in  America,  I  believe  that  to  some  extent 
Maraton  possesses  it.  Anyhow,  it  seemed  to  me  to 
be  worth  trying.  One  couldn't  face  the  idea  of  let- 


92  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

ting  him  go  up  north  just  now  without  making  an 
effort." 

"  Things  are  really  serious  there,"  Lord  Armley 
muttered. 

"  Worse  than  any  of  us  know,"  Mr.  Foley  agreed. 
"  If  you  hadn't  been  coming  here,  I  should  have  sent 
for  you  last  night.  The  French  Ambassador  was 
with  me  for  an  hour  after  dinner." 

"No  fresh  trouble?" 

"  It  was  a  general  conversation,  but  his  visit  had 
its  purpose  —  a  very  definite  and  threatening  pur- 
pose, too.  I  do  not  blame  France.  We  are  under 
great  obligations  to  her  already.  Half  her  fleet  is 
there  to  watch  over  our  possessions.  She  naturally 
must  be  sure  of  her  quid  pro  quo.  Everywhere,  all 
over  the  Continent,  the  idea  seems  to  be  spreading 
that  we  are  going  to  be  plunged  into  what  really 
amounts  to  a  civil  war.  The  coming  of  Maraton 
has  strengthened  the  people's  belief.  A  country 
without  the  sinews  of  movement,  a  country  in  which 
the  working  classes  laid  down  their  tools,  a  country 
whose  forges  had  flickered  out  and  whose  railroad 
tracks  were  deserted,  would  simply  be  the  helpless 
prey  of  any  country  who  cared  to  pay  off  old  scores." 

Lord  Armley  was  looking  curiously  at  the  ap- 
proaching couple. 

"  Never  saw  a  man,"  he  said,  half  to  himself,  "  who 
looked  the  part  so  little.  Fellow  must  be  well-bred, 
Foley." 

Mr.  Foley  nodded. 

"  No  one  knows  who  his  people  were.  It  doesn't 
really  matter,  does  it?  Accident  has  made  him  a 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  93 

gentleman  —  accident  or  fate.  Perhaps  that  is  why 
he  has  gained  such  an  ascendency  over  the  people. 
The  working  classes  of  the  country  are  most  of  them 
sick  of  their  own  Labour  Members.  The  practical 
men  can  see  no  further  than  their  noses,  and  the 
theorists  are  too  far  above  their  heads.  Maraton  is 
the  only  one  who  seems  to  understand.  You  must 
have  a  talk  with  him,  Armley." 

Lady  Elisabeth,  with  a  little  smile,  had  turned 
towards  the  tennis  courts,  and  Maraton  came  on 
alone.  Mr.  Foley  turned  to  his  companion. 

"  Armley,"  he  said,  "  this  is  Mr.  Maraton  —  Lord 
Armley." 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Maraton," 
Lord  Armley  declared,  as  the  two  men  shook  bands, 
"  in  such  peaceful  surroundings.  The  Press  over 
here  has  not  been  too  kind  to  you.  Our  ideas  of 
your  personality  are  rather  based,  I  am  afraid,  upon 
the  Punch  caricature.  You've  seen  it,  perhaps  ?  " 

Maraton' s  eyes  lit  up  with  mirth. 

"  Excellent ! "  he  observed.  "  I  have  had  one 
framed." 

"  He  is  standing,"  Lord  Armley  continued,  turn- 
ing to  Mr.  Foley,  "  on  the  topmost  of  three  tubs, 
his  hair  flying  in  the  wind,  his  mouth  open  to  about 
twice  its  normal  size,  with  fire  and  smoke  coming  out 
of  it.  And  below,  a  multitude!  It  is  a  splendid 
caricature.  They  tell  me,  Mr.  Maraton,  that  it  is 
your  intention  to  kindle  the  fires  in  England,  too." 

Maraton  was  suddenly  grave. 

*'  Lord  Armley,"  he  said,  "  all  the  world  speaks  of 
me  as  an  apostle  of  destruction  and  death.  It  is 


94  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

because  they  see  a  very  little  distance.  In  my  own 
thoughts,  if  ever  I  do  think  of  myself,  it  is  as  a 
builder,  not  as  a  destroyer,  that  I  picture  myself. 
Only  in  this  world,  as  in  any  other,  one  must  destroy 
first  to  build  upon  a  sound  foundation." 

"  Good  reasoning,  sir,"  Lord  Armley  replied, 
"  only  one  should  be  very  sure,  before  one  destroys, 
that  the  new  order  of  things  will  be  worthy  of  the 
sacrifice." 

"  After  dinner,"  Mr.  Foley  remarked,  as  he  lit  a 
cigarette,  "  we  are  going  to  talk.  At  present,  Mara- 
ton  is  under  a  solemn  promise  to  play  tennis." 

Maraton  looked  towards  the  house. 

"  If  I  might  be  allowed,"  he  said,  "  I  will  go  and 
put  on  my  flannels.  Lady  Elisabeth  is  making  up  a 
set,  I  think." 

He  turned  towards  the  house.  The  two  men  stood 
watching  him. 

"  Is  he  to  be  bought  ?  "  Lord  Armley  asked,  in  a 
low  tone. 

Mr.  Foley  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  with  money  or  place,"  he  answered  thought- 
fully. 

"  There  isn't  a  man  breathing  who  hasn't  his  price, 
if  you  could  only  discover  what  it  is,"  Lord  Armley 
declared,  as  he  took  a  cigarette  from  his  case  and 
lit  it. 

"  A  truism,  my  friend,"  Mr.  Foley  admitted, 
"  which  I  have  always  considered  a  little  nebulous. 
However,  we  shall  see.  We  have  a  few  hours'  respite, 
at  any  rate." 


CHAPTER  XI 

Lady  Grenside's  hospitable  instincts  were  un- 
quenchable. The  small  house-party  to  which  her 
brother  had  reluctantly  consented  had  grown  by  odd 
couples  until  the  house  was  more  than  half  full. 
Twenty-two  people  sat  down  to  dinner  that  night. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Mr.  Foley  interfered 
with  the  arrangement  of  the  table.  He  sought  his 
sister  out  just  as  the  dressing-bell  rang. 

"  My  dear  Catharine,"  he  asked,  a  little  reprov- 
ingly, "  was  it  necessary  to  have  such  a  crowd  here  — 
at  any  rate  until  after  Monday?  You  know  that 
I  don't  interfere  as  a  rule,  but  there  were  special 
reasons  why  I  wanted  to  be  as  quiet  as  possible  until 
after  Maraton  had  left." 

Lady  Grenside's  expression  was  delightfully  apolo- 
getic. It  conveyed,  also,  a  sense  of  helplessness. 

"  What  was  I  to  do?  "  she  demanded.  "  Most  of 
these  people  were  asked,  or  half  asked,  weeks  ago, 
and  I  hate  putting  any  one  off.  It  is  quite  a  weak- 
ness of  mine,  that.  And  I  am  sure,  Stephen,  there 
isn't  a  soul  who  could  possibly  object  to  Mr.  Mara- 
ton. Personally,  I  think  he  is  altogether  charming, 
and  so  distinguished-looking.  He  has  quite  the  air 
of  being  used  to  good  society." 

Mr.  Foley 's  eyes  lit  with  joyful  appreciation  of 
his  sister's  naivete.  Perhaps  one  reason  why  they 


96  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

got  on  so  well  together  was  because  she  was  con- 
tinually ministering  to  his  sense  of  humour. 

"  It  wasn't  altogether  that,"  he  said,  "  but  never 
mind.  We  can't  send  the  people  away  now  —  that's 
certain.  What  I  wanted  to  tell  you  was  that  Elisa- 
beth must  sit  next  Maraton  to-night." 

Lady  Grenside  was  horrified. 

"  However  could  I  explain  such  an  arrangement 
to  Jack  Carton ! "  she  protested.  "  Apart  from  a 
matter  of  precedence,  you  know  that  he  is  Elisa- 
beth's declared  admirer.  It  is  perfectly  certain  that 
at  a  word  of  encouragement  from  her,  he  would 
propose.  A  most  suitable  match,  too,  in  every  way, 
and,  you  know,  Elisabeth  is  beginning  to  be  just  a 
little  anxiety  to  me.  She  is  twenty-four,  and  girls 
marry  so  young,  nowadays." 

"  Carton  and  she  can  make  up  for  lost  time  later 
on,"  Mr.  Foley  insisted.  "  Maraton  goes  to-mor- 
row. To-night  I  am  relying  upon  Elisabeth  to  look 
after  him.  For  some  reason  or  other,  they  seem  to 
get  on  together  excellently."  .  .  . 

Lady  Grenside  took  Lord  Carton  into  one  of  the 
corners  of  her  brother's  quaint  and  delightful  draw- 
ing-room, to  explain  the  matter. 

"  My  dear  Jack,"  she  began,  "  never  be  a  poli- 
tician." 

"  I  like  that !  "  the  young  man  answered.  "  Lady 
Elisabeth  has  been  talking  to  me  for  half  an  hour 
before  dinner,  trying  to  get  me  to  interest  myself 
in  what  she  calls  serious  objects." 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,  so  far  as  the  man  is  con- 
cerned !  "  Lady  Grenside  amended.  "  I  was  thinking 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  97 

of  my  own  position.  Only  an  hour  ago,  my  brother 
comes  to  me  and  tells  me  that  I  am  to  send  Elisabeth 
in  to  dinner  to-night  with  —  with  whom  do  you 
think?  " 

"  With  me,  I  hope,"  the  young  man  replied 
promptly,  "  only  I  don't  know  why  he  should  inter- 
fere." 

"  With  Mr.  Maraton." 

"What,  the  anarchist  fellow?" 

Lady  Grenside  nodded  several  times. 

"  I  can't  refuse  Stephen  in  his  own  house,"  she 
said,  "  and  Mr.  Maraton  is  leaving  to-morrow." 

The  young  man  sighed. 

"  He  is  just  one  of  those  thoughtful  chaps  with 
plenty  of  gas,  that  Elisabeth  likes  to  talk  to,"  he 
complained.  "  Never  mind,  it's  got  to  be  put  up 
with,  I  suppose." 

"  I  am  sending  you  in  with  Lily,"  Lady  Grenside 
continued.  "  She'll  keep  you  amused.  Only  I  felt 
that  I  must  explain." 

"  I  can't  think  what  the  fellow's  doing  here,  any- 
how," Carton  remarked  discontentedly.  "  A  few 
generations  ago  we  should  have  hung  him." 

"  Hush !  "  Lady  Grenside  whispered.  "  Don't  let. 
Elisabeth  hear  you  talk  like  that.  Here  she  comes. 
I  wonder — " 

Lady  Grenside  stopped  short.  She  was  looking- 
steadily  at  her  daughter  and  her  expression  of  doubt 
had  a  genuine  impulse  behind  it.  Carton  was  not 
so  reticent. 

"  By  Jove,  she  dpes  look  stunning ! "  he  mur- 
mured. 


98  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Elisabeth,  who  seldom  wore  colours,  was  dressed 
in  blue,  with  a  necklace  of  turquoises.  On  the 
threshold  she  paused  to  make  some  laughing  rejoin- 
der to  a  man  who  was  holding  open  the  door  for  her. 
Her  eyes  were  brilliant,  her  face  was  full  of  ani- 
mation. Lady  Grenside's  face  darkened  as  the  un- 
seen man  came  into  sight.  It  was  Maraton. 

"  Never  saw  Elisabeth  look  so  ripping,"  Carton 
repeated.  "  Just  my  luck,  not  to  take  her  in." 

"  To-morrow  night,"  Lady  Grenside  promised. 

"That's  all  very  well,"  Carton  grumbled.  "I 
wish  she  didn't  look  so  thundering  pleased  with  her- 
self." 

Lady  Grenside  leaned  a  little  towards  him. 

"  Elisabeth  is  a  dear  girl,"  she  declared.  "  She 
is  doing  all  this  for  her  uncle's  sake.  Mr.  Foley  is 
very  anxious  indeed  to  conciliate  this  man,  and 
Elisabeth  is  helping  him.  You  know  how  keen  she 
is  on  doing  what  she  can  in  that  way." 

Carton  nodded  a  little  more  hopefully.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  now  upon  Maraton. 

"  Can't  think  how  the  fellow  learnt  to  turn  him- 
self out  like  that.  I  thought  these  sort  of  people 
dressed  anyhow." 

Lady  Grenside  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  I  believe,"  she  said,  "  that  this  man  is  full  of 
queer  contradictions.  Some  one  once  told  me  that 
he  was  enormously  wealthy;  that  he  had  been  to  an 
English  public  school  and  changed  his  name  out  in 
America.  Rubbish,  I  expect.  .  .  .  Run  and  find 
Lily,  there's  a  dear  boy.  We  are  going  in  now." 

Dinner  was  served  at  a  round  table,  and  a  good 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  99 

deal  of  the  conversation  was  general.  On  Maraton's 
left  hand,  however,  was  a  lady  whose  horror  at  his 
presence,  concealed  out  of  deference  to  her  host,  re- 
duced her  to  stolid  and  unbending  silence.  Elisa- 
beth, quickly  aware  of  the  fact,  made  swift  atone- 
ment. While  the  others  talked  all  around  them  of 
general  subjects,  she  conversed  with  Maraton  almost 
in  whispers,  lightly  enough  at  first,  but  with  an 
undernote  of  seriousness  always  there.  Maraton 
would  have  been  less  than  human  if  he  had  not  been 
susceptible  to  the  charm  of  her  conversation. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"  she  declared,  towards  the  end 
of  the  meal,  "  how  much  I  am  hoping  from  this  brief 
visit  of  yours.  I  know  you  feel  that  our  class  has 
little  feeling  for  the  people  whom  you  represent.  If 
only  I  could  convince  you  how  wrong  that  idea  is ! 
Nothing  has  interested  me  so  much  as  the  different 
measures  which  have  been  brought  in  for  the  sake 
of  the  people.  And  my  uncle,  too  —  he  is  the  kind- 
est of  men  and  very  broad.  He  would  go  even 
further  than  he  does,  but  for  his  colleagues." 

"  He  goes  a  long  way,"  Maraton  reminded  her, 
"  when  he  asks  me  to  his  home ;  invites  me  —  well, 
why  should  I  not  say  it?  —  invites  me  to  join  his 
party." 

"  He  is  doing  what  he  believes  is  sensible,"  she 
went  on  eagerly.  "  He  is  doing  what  I  know  is 
right.  It  is  the  best,  the  most  splendid  idea  he  has 
ever  had.  I  think  that  if  nothing  comes  of  it,"  she 
added,  leaning  forward  so  that  her  eyes  met  his,  "  I 
think  that  if  nothing  comes  of  it,  it  will  break  my 
heart." 


ioo  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Maraton  was  a  little  more  serious  for  a  few 
minutes.  She  waited  in  some  anxiety  for  him  to 
speak.  When  he  did  so,  she  realised  that  there  was 
a  new  gravity  in  his  face  and  in  his  tone. 

"  Lady  Elisabeth,"  he  said,  "  I  am  afraid  that 
there  is  very  little  hope  of  our  coming  to  any  agree- 
ment. You  must  remember  that  when  I  promised 
to  come  here  — " 

"  Oh,  I  know  that ! "  she  interrupted.  "  Only  I 
wish  that  we  had  a  little  longer  time.  You  think 
that  my  interest  in  the  people  is  an  amateurish  affair, 
half  sentimental  and  half  freakish,  don't  you?  You 
were  probably  surprised  to  hear  that  I  had  ever 
read  a  volume  of  political  economy  in  my  life.  But 
I  have.  I  have  studied  things.  I  have  read  dozens 
and  dozens  of  books  on  Sociology,  and  Socialism, 
and  Syndicalism,  and  every  conceivable  subject  that 
bears  upon  the  relations  between  your  class  and  ours, 
and  I  can't  come  to  any  but  one  conclusion.  There 
is  only  one  logical  conclusion.  Violent  methods  are 
useless.  The  betterment  of  the  poor  must  come 
about  gradually.  If  religion  hadn't  interfered, 
things  would  have  been  far  better  now,  even." 

He  looked  at  her,  a  little  startled. 

"  It  seems  strange  to  hear  you  say  that,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"  Strange  only  because  you  will  think  of  me  as  a 
dilettante,"  she  replied  swiftly.  "  I  have  some  sort 
of  a  brain.  I  have  thought  of  these  matters,  talked 
of  them  with  my  uncle,  with  many  others  whom  even 
you  would  admit  to  be  clever  men.  I,  too,  see  that 
charity  and  charitable  impulses  have  perhaps  been 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  zor 

the  greatest  drawback  of  the  day  to  a  scientific  bet- 
terment of  the  people.  I,  too,  want  to  see  the  thing 
done  by  laws  and  not  by  impulses." 

"  You  and  how  many  more,"  he  sighed,  "  and, 
alas!  this  is  an  age  of  majorities.  People  talk  a 
good  deal.  I  wonder  how  many  of  your  hateful 
middle  class  would  give  up  a  tithe  of  their  luxuries 
to  add  to  the  welfare  of  the  others.  There  isn't  a 
person  breathing  with  so  little  real  feeling  for  the 
slaves  of  the  world,  as  your  middle-class  manufac- 
turer, your  tradesman.  That  is  why,  in  the  days  to 
come,  he  will  be  the  person  who  is  going  to  suffer 
most." 

Maraton  was  appealed  to  from  across  the  table 
with  reference  to  some  of  the  art  treasures  which 
were  reputed  to  have  found  their  way  from  Italy 
to  New  York.  He  gave  at  once  the  information 
required,  speaking  fluently  and  with  the  appreciative 
air  of  a  connoisseur,  of  many  of  the  pictures  which 
were  under  discussion.  Soon  afterwards,  Lady 
Grenside  rose  and  the  men  drew  up  their  chairs. 
The  evening  papers  had  arrived  and  there  was  a 
general  air  of  seriousness.  Mr.  Foley  sent  one  to 
Maraton,  who  glanced  at  the  opening  page  upon 
which  his  name  was  displayed  in  large  type: 

FIVE    MILLION   WORKERS   WAIT    FOR 
MARATON! 

WHAT    THE    STRIKE    MAY    MEAN. 
HOME    SECRETARY    LEAVES    FOR    MANCHESTER 

TO-MORROW. 

ILLEGAL.    STRIKES    BILL    TO    BE    PROPOSED 
ON    MONDAY. 


102  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Maraton  only  glanced  at  the  paper  and  put  it  on 
one  side.  There  was  a  little  constraint.  One  or  two 
who  had  not  known  of  his  identity  were  glancing 
curiously  in  his  direction.  Mr.  Foley  smiled  at  him 
pleasantly. 

"  You  may  drink  your  port  without  fear,  Mr. 
Maraton,"  he  said.  "  We  live  in  civilised  ages.  A 
thousand  years  ago,  you  would  certainly  have  had 
some  cause  for  suspicion !  " 

Maraton  raised  his  glass  to  his  lips  and  sipped  the 
wine  critically. 

" 1  am  afraid,"  he  remarked,  with  a  gleam  in  his 
eyes,  "  that  there  are  a  good  many  of  you  who  may 
be  wishing  that  they  could  set  back  time  a  thousand 
years !  " 

Mr.  Foley  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  decided,  "  to-day's  principles  are  the 
best.  We  argue  away  what  is  wrong  in  the  minds 
of  our  enemies,  and  we  take  unto  ourselves  what  they 
bring  us  of  good.  If  you  would  rather,  Mr.  Mara- 
ton, we  will  not  talk  politics  at  all.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  news  to-night  is  serious.  Armley  here  is 
wondering  what  the  actual  results  will  be  if  Shef- 
field, Leeds,  and  Manchester  stand  together,  and  the 
railway  strike  comes  at  the  same  time." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  wonder  at  all,"  Lord  Arm- 
ley  declared.  "  The  result  will  be  ruin."  - 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  permanent  destruc- 
tion," Maraton  objected.  "  The  springs  of  human 
life  are  never  crushed.  Sometimes  a  generation  must 
suffer  that  succeeding  ones  may  be  blest." 

"  The  question  is,"  Mr.  Foley  said,  holding  up  his 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  103 

wine-glass,  "  how  far  we  are  justified  in  experiments 
concerning  which  nothing  absolute  can  be  known, 
experiments  of  so  disastrous  a  nature." 

A  servant  entered  and  made  a  communication  to 
Mr.  Foley,  who  turned  at  once  to  Maraton. 

"  It  is  your  secretary,"  he  announced,  "  who  has 
arrived  from  London  with  some  letters." 

Maraton  at  once  followed  the  servant  from  the 
room.  Mr.  Foley,  too,  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  In  ten  minutes  or  so,"  he  declared,  "  I  shall 
follow  you.  We  can  have  our  chat  quietly  in  the 
study." 

Maraton  followed  the  butler  across  the  hall  and 
found  himself  ushered  into  a  room  at  the  back  of 
the  house  —  a  room  lined  with  books;  with  French 
windows,  wide  open,  leading  out  on  to  the  lawn;  a 
room  beautifully  cool  and  odoriferous  with  the  per- 
fume of  roses.  A  single  lamp  was  burning  upon  a 
table ;  for  the  rest,  the  apartment  seemed  full  of  the 
soft  blue  twilight  of  the  summer  night.  Maraton 
came  to  a  standstill  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 
A  tall,  very  slim  figure  in  plain  dark  clothes  had 
turned  from  the  French  windows  and  was  standing 
there  now,  her  face  turned  towards  him  a  little 
eagerly,  a  strange  light  upon  her  pale  cheeks  and  in 
the  eyes  which  seemed  to  shine  at  him  almost  fever- 
ishly out  of  the  sensuous  twilight. 


CHAPTER  XII 

"  Julia !  "  Maraton  exclaimed. 

"  Aaron  was  run  over  just  as  he  was  starting," 
she  explained  quickly.  "  He  is  not  hurt  badly,  but 
he  wasn't  able  to  catch  the  train.  He  had  an  im- 
portant letter  from  Manchester  and  one  from  the 
committee  for  you.  We  thought  it  best  that  I 
should  bring  them.  I  hope  we  decided  rightly." 

She  was  standing  out  of  the  circle  of  the  lamp- 
light, in  the  shadows  of  the  room.  There  was  a 
queer  nervousness  about  her  manner,  a  strained 
anxiety  in  the  way  her  eyes  scarcely  left  his  face, 
which  puzzled  him. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  he  said,  as  he  took  the  let- 
ters. "  Please  sit  down  while  I  look  at  them." 

The  first  was  dated  from  the  House  of  Commons : 

*'  Dear  Mr.  Maraton: 

"  At  a  committee  meeting  held  this  afternoon  here, 
it  was  resolved  that  I  should  write  to  you  to  the  fol- 
lowing effect. 

"  We  understood  that  you  were  coming  over  here 
entirely  in  the  interests  of  the  great  cause  of  labour, 
of  which  we,  the  undersigned,  are  the  accredited  rep- 
resentatives in  this  country.  Since  your  arrival, 
however,  you  have  preserved  an  independent  attitude 
which  has  given  cause  to  much  anxiety  on  our  part. 
After  declining  to  attend  a  meeting  at  the  Clarion 
Hall,  we  find  you  there  amongst  the  audience,  and 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  105 

you  address  them  In  direct  opposition  to  the  advice 
which  we  were'  giving  them  authoritatively.  We 
specially  invited  you  to  be  present  at  a  meeting  of 
this  committee  to-day,  in  order  that  a  definite  plan 
of  campaign  might  be  formulated  before  your  visit 
to  Manchester.  You  have  not  accepted  our  invi- 
tation, and  we  understand  that  you  are  now  staying 
at  the  private  house  of  the  Prime  Minister,  notwith- 
standing our  request  that  you  should  not  interview, 
or  be  interviewed  by  any  representative  of  the  Gov- 
ernment without  one  of  our  committee  being  present. 

"  We  wish  to  express  our  dissatisfaction  with  the 
state  of  affairs,  and  to  say  that  should  you  be  still 
intending  to  address  the  meeting  at  Manchester  on 
Monday  night,  we  demand  an  explanation  with  you 
before  you  go  on  to  the  platform.  We  understand 
that  the  residence  of  Mr.  Foley  is  only  sixty  miles 
from  London.  If  you  are  still  desirous  of  acting 
with  us,  we  beg  you,  upon  receipt  of  this  letter,  to 
ask  for  a  motor  car  and  to  return  here  to  London. 
We  shall  all  be  at  number  17,  Netting  Hill,  until 
midnight  or  later,  telephone  number  178,  so  that  you 
can  telephone  that  you  are  on  the  way.  Failing  your 
coming,  some  of  us  will  be  at  the  Midland  Hotel, 
Manchester,  from  mid-day  on  Monday. 
"  I  am, 

"  Faithfully  yours, 
"  For  "  RICHARD  GRAVELING, 

PETER  DALE,  Chairman,  "  Secretary." 

ABRAHAM  WEAVEL, 

SAMUEL  BORDEX, 

HENRY  CULVAIN. 


io6  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

The  second  one  was  from  Manchester: 

"  Dear  Sir: 

"  We  understand  that  you  will  be  arriving  in  Man- 
chester about  mid-day  on  Monday.  We  think  it 
would  be  best  if  you  were  to  descend  from  the  train 
either  at  Derby  or  any  adjacent  station,  as  no  police 
force  which  could  possibly  be  raised  in  the  county, 
will  be  sufficient  to  control  the  crowds  of  people  who 
will  gather  in  the  streets  to  welcome  you. 

"  We  beg  that  you  will  send  us  a  telegram,  inform- 
ing us  by  what  train  you  are  travelling,  and  we  will 
send  a  messenger  to  Derby,  who  will  confer  with  you 
as  to  the  best  means  of  reaching  the  rooms  which 
we  are  providing  for  you. 
"  Anticipating  your  visit, 

"  I  am, 
"  Faithfully  yours, 

"  WIIXIAM  PRESTOS, 
"  Secretary  Manchester  Labour  Party." 

Maraton  replaced  the  letters  in  their  envelopes 
and  turned  with  them  in  his  hand,  towards  Julia. 
She  had  moved  a  little  towards  the  open  French  win- 
dows. Every  one  seemed  to  have  made  their  way 
out  on  to  the  lawn.  Chinese  lanterns  were  hanging 
from  some  of  the  trees  and  along  the  straight  box 
hedge  that  led  to  the  rose  gardens.  The  women  were 
strolling  about  in  their  evening  gowns,  without  wraps 
or  covering,  and  the  men  had  joined  them.  Servants 
were  passing  coffee  around,  served  from  a  table  on 
which  stood  a  little  row  of  bottles,  filled  with  various 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  107 

liqueurs.  Some  one  in  the  drawing-room  was  sing- 
ing, but  the  voice  was  suddenly  silenced.  Every  one 
turned  their  heads.  A  little  further  back  in  the 
woods,  a  nightingale  had  commenced  to  sing. 

"  You  are  tired,"  Maraton  whispered. 

She  shook  her  head.  The  strained,  anxious  look 
was  still  in  her  face. 

"  No,"  she  replied  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  am  not  tired." 

"  There  is  something  the  matter,"  he  insisted, 
"  something,  I  am  sure.  Won't  you  sit  down,  and 
may  I  not  order  some  refreshment  for  you?  The 
people  here  are  very  hospitable." 

Her  gesture  of  dissent  was  almost  peremptory. 

"No!" 

The  monosyllable  had  a  sting  which  surprised  him. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is  ?  "  he  begged. 

She  opened  her  lips  and  closed  them  again.  He 
saw  then  the  rising  and  falling  of  her  bosom  under- 
neath that  black  stuff  gown.  She  stretched  out  her 
hand  towards  the  gardens.  Somehow  or  other,  she 
seemed  to  grow  taller. 

"  I  do  not  understand  this,"  she  said.  "  I  dft 
not  understand  your  being  here,  one  of  them,  dressed 
like  them,  speaking  their  language,  sharing  their 
luxuries.  It  is  a  great  blow  to  me.  It  is  perhaps 
because  I  am  foolish,  but  it  tortures  me ! " 

"  But  isn't  that  a  little  unreasonable?  "  he  asked 
her  quietly.  "  To  accomplish  anything  in  this 
world,  it  is  necessary  to  know  more  than  one  side  of 
life." 

"  But  this  —  this,"  she  cried  hysterically,  "  is  the 
side  which  has  made  our  blood  boil  for  generations! 


io8  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

These  women  in  silk  and  laces,  these  idle,  pleasure- 
loving  men,  this  eating  and  drinking,  this  luxury  in 
beautiful  surroundings,  with  ears  deafened  to  all  the 
mad,  sobbing  cries  of  the  world!  This  is  their  life 
day  by  day.  You  have  been  in  the  wilderness,  you 
have  seen  the  life  of  those  others,  you  have  the  feel- 
ing for  them  in  your  heart.  Can  you  sit  at  table 
with  these  people  and  wear  their  clothes,  and  not 
feel  like  a  hypocrite  ?  " 

"  I  assure  you,"  Maraton  replied,  "  that  I  can." 

She  was  trembling  slightly.  She  had  never  seemed 
to  him  so  tall.  Her  eyes  now  were  ablaze.  She  had 
indeed  the  air  of  a  prophetess. 

"  They  are  ignorant  men,  they  who  sent  you  that 
letter,"  she  continued,  pointing  to  it,  "  but  they  have 
the  truth.  Do  you  know  what  they  are  saying?  " 

Maraton  inclined  his  head  gravely.  He  felt  that 
he  knew  very  well  what  they  were  saying.  She  did 
not  give  him  time,  however,  to  interrupt. 

"  They  are  saying  that  you  are  to  be  bought, 
that  that  is  why  you  are  here,  that  Mr.  Foley  will 
pay  a  great  price  for  you.  They  are  saying  that 
all  those  hopes  we  had  built  upon  your  coming,  are 
to  be  dashed  away.  They  say  that  you  are  for  the 
flesh-pots.  I  daren't  breathe  a  word  of  this  to 
Aaron,"  she  added  hurriedly,  **  or  I  think  that  he 
would  go  mad.  He  is  blind  with  passionate  love  for 
you.  He  does  not  see  the  danger,  he  will  not  believe 
that  you  are  not  as  a  god." 

Maraton  looked  past  her  into  the  gardens,  away 
into  the  violet  sky.  The  nightingale  was  singing 
now  clearly  and  wonderfully.  Perhaps,  for  a  mo- 


.She  did  not  give  him  time  to  Interrupt.     Page  108. 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  109 

ment,  his  thoughts  strayed  from  the  great  battle  of 
life.  Perhaps  his  innate  sense  and  worship  of 
beauty,  the  artist  in  the  man,  which  was  the  real 
thing  making  him  great  in  his  daily  work,  triumphed 
apart  from  any  other  consideration.  The  music  of 
life  was  in  his  veins.  Soft  and  stately,  Elisabeth, 
standing  a  little  apart,  was  looking  in  upon  them, 
an  exquisite  figure  with  a  background  of  dark  green 
trees. 

"  When  you  faced  death  in  Chicago,"  Julia  went 
on,  her  voice  quivering  with  the  effort  she  was  mak- 
ing to  keep  it  low,  "  when  you  offered  your  body  to 
the  law  and  preached  fire  and  murder  with  your  lips, 
you  did  it  for  the  sake  of  the  people.  There  was 
nothing  in  life  so  glorious  to  you,  then,  as  the  one 
great  cause.  That  was  the  man  we  hoped  to  see. 
Are  you  that  man  ?  " 

Maraton's  thoughts  came  back.  He  moved  a 
little  towards  her.  Her  hand  shot  out  as  though 
to  keep  him  at  a  distance. 

"  Are  you  that  man?  "  she  repeated. 

Her  thin  form  was  shaken  with  stifled  sobs. 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  answered  gravely.  "  My  ways 
are  not  the  ways  to  which  you  have  been  accustomed. 
In  my  heart  I  believe  that  I  see  further  into  the  real 
truth  than  some  of  those  very  ignorant  friends  of 
yours  who  have  been  sent  into  Parliament  by  the 
operatives  they  represent;  further  even  than  you, 
Julia,  handicapped  by  your  sex,  with  your  eyes 
fixed,  day  by  day,  only  upon  the  misery  of  life. 
You  blame  me  because  I  am  here  amongst  these  peo- 
ple as  an  equal.  Listen.  Is  one  responsible  for 


no  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

their  birth  and  instincts?  I  tell  you  now  what  1 
have  told  to  no  one,  for  no  one  has  ever  ventured 
to  ask  me  twice  of  my  parentage.  I  was  born,  in 
a  sense,  as  these  people  were  born.  I  cannot  help 
it  if,  finding  it  advisable  to  come  amongst  them,  I 
find  their  ways  easy.  That  is  all.  I  came  here  to 
keep  a  promise  to  a  man  who  is,  in  his  way,  a  great 
statesman.  He  is  Prime  Minister  of  our  country. 
He  has,  without  a  doubt,  so  far  as  it  is  possible  for 
such  a  man  to  have  it  there  at  all,  the  cause  of  the 
people  at  his  heart.  Is  it  for  me  to  ignore  him,  to 
leave  what  he  would  say  to  me  unsaid,  to  pull  down 
the  pillars  which  have  kept  this  a  proud  country  for 
many  hundreds  of  years,  without  even  listening? 
Remember  that  if  I  speak  at  Manchester  the  things 
that  are  in  my  heart,  this  country,  for  your  time 
and  mine,  must  perish.  Of  that  I  am  sure.  That 
has  been  made  clear  to  me.  Do  you  wonder,  Julia, 
that,  before  I  take  that  last  step,  I  lift  every  stone, 
I  turn  over  every  page,  I  listen  to  every  word  which 
may  be  spoken  by  those  who  have  the  right  to 
speak  ?  That  is  why  I  am  here.  On  Monday  morn- 
ing I  leave.  On  Monday  night  I  speak  to  the  people 
in  Manchester." 

She  listened  to  him  very  much  as  a  prisoner  at 
the  bar  might  listen  to  a  judge  who  reasons  before 
he  pronounces  sentence,  and  her  face  became  as  the 
face  of  that  prisoner  might  become,  who  detects 
some  leniency  of  tone,  some  softening  of  manner, 
on  the  part  of  the  arbiter  of  his  fate.  She  ceased 
to  tremble,  her  lips  relaxed,  her  eyes  grew  softer  and 
softer.  She  came  a  step  nearer,  resting  her  finger- 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  in 

tips  upon  a  little  table,  her  body  leaning  towards 
him.  He  had  a  queer  vision  of  her  for  a  moment  — 
no  longer  the  prophetess,  a  touch  of  the  Delilah  in 
the  soft  sweetness  of  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  forgive  me !  "  she  begged.  "  I  was  foolish. 
Forgive  me ! " 

He  smiled  at  her  reassuringly. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  he  insisted.  "  You 
asked  for  an  explanation  to  which  you  had  a  right. 
I  have  tried  to  give  it  to  you.  Indeed,  Julia,  you 
need  have  no  fear.  Whatever  I  decide  in  life  will 
be  what  I  think  best  for  our  cause." 

The  shadow  of  fear  once  more  trembled  in  her 
tone. 

"  Whatever  you  decide,"  she  repeated.  "  You  will 
not  —  you  will  not  let  them  call  you  a  deserter?  You 
couldn't  do  that." 

"  There  isn't  anything  in  the  world,"  he  told  her 
quietly,  "  which  has  the  power  to  tempt  me  from 
doing  the  thing  which  I  think  best.  I  cannot  promise 
that  it  will  be  always  the  thing  which  seems  right  to 
this  committee  of  men,"  he  added,  touching  the  enve- 
lope with  his  forefinger.  "  I  cannot  promise  you 
that,  but  it  should  not  worry  you.  You  yourself  are 
different.  It  is  my  hope  that  soon  you  will  under- 
stand me  better.  I  think  that  when  that  time  comes 
you  will  cease  to  fear." 

The  light  in  her  face  was  wonderful. 

"  Oh,  I  want  to !  "  she  murmured.  "  I  want  to 
understand  you  better.  There  hasn't  been  anything 
in  life  to  me  like  the  sound  of  your  name,  like  the 
thought  of  you,  since  first  I  understood.  Perhaps 


ii2  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

I  am  as  bad  as  Aaron,"  she  sighed.  "  I,  too,  alas ! 
am  your  hopeless  slave." 

He  moved  a  step  nearer.  This  time  she  made  no 
effort  to  retreat.  Once  more  she  was  trembling  a 
little,  but  her  face  was  soft  and  sweet.  All  the 
pallor,  the  hard  lines,  the  suffering  seemed  to  have 
passed  miraculously  out  of  it.  A  soul  —  a  woman's 
soul  —  was  shining  at  him  out  of  her  eyes.  It 
wasn't  her  physical  self  that  spoke  —  in  a  way  he 
knew  that.  Yet  she  was  calling  to  him,  calling  to 
him  with  all  she  possessed,  calling  to  him  as  to  her 
master. 

He  succeeded  in  persuading  her  to  eat  and  drink, 
and  she  departed,  a  little  grim  and  unpleased,  in 
the  motor  car  which  Mr.  Foley  had  insisted  upon 
ordering  round.  Then  Maraton  strolled  into  the 
garden  to  take  his  delayed  coffee.  Elisabeth  came 
noiselessly  across  the  turf  to  his  side. 

"  I  hope  there  was  nothing  disturbing  in  your  let- 
ters ?  "  she  said. 

"  Not  very,"  he  replied.  "  It  is  only  what  I  ex- 
pected." 

"  Every  one,"  she  continued,  "  has  been  admiring 
your  secretary.  We  all  thought  that  she  had  such 
a  beautiful  face." 

"  She  is  not  my  secretary,"  he  explained.  "  She 
came  in  place  of  her  brother,  who  met  with  a  slight 
accident  just  as  he  was  starting." 

Somehow  or  other,  he  fancied  that  Elisabeth  was 
pleased. 

"  I  didn't  think  that  it  was  like  you  to  have  a 
woman  secretary,"  she  remarked. 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  113 

He  smiled  as  he  replied : 

"  Miss  Thurnbrein  is  a  very  earnest  worker  and 
a  real  humanitarian.  She  has  written  articles  about 
woman  labour  in  London." 

"  Julia  Thurnbrein !  "  Elisabeth  exclaimed.  "  Yes, 
I  have  read  them.  If  only  I  had  known  that  that 
was  she !  I  should  have  liked  so  much  to  have  talked 
to  her.  Do  you  think  that  she  would  come  and  see 
me,  or  let  me  come  and  see  her?  We  really  do  want 
to  understand  these  things,  and  it  seems  to  rne, 
somehow,  that  people  like  Julia  Thurnbrein,  and  all 
those  who  really  understand,  keep  away  from  us 
wilfully.  They  won't  exchange  thoughts.  They 
believe  that  we  are  their  natural  enemies.  And  we 
aren't,  you  know.  There  isn't  any  one  I'd  like  to 
meet  and  talk  with  so  much  as  Julia  Thurn- 
brein." 

He  nodded  sympathetically. 

"They  are  prejudiced,"  he  admitted.  "All  of 
them  are  disgusted  with  me  for  being  down  here. 
They  look  with  grave  suspicion  upon  my  ability  to 
wear  a  dress  suit.  It  is  just  that  narrowness  which 
has  set  back  the  clock  a  hundred  years.  .  .  .  How 
I  like  your  idea  of  an  open-air  drawing-room!  Mr. 
Foley  hasn't  been  looking  for  me,  has  he?  I  am 
due  in  his  study  in  three  minutes." 

Her  finger  touched  his  arm. 

"  Come  with  me  for  one  moment,"  she  insisted,  a 
little  abruptly. 

She  led  him  down  one  of  the  walks  —  a  narrow 
turf  path,  leading  through  great  clumps  of  rhodo- 
dendrons. At  the  bottom  was  the  wood  where  the 


ii4  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

nightingale  had  his  home.  After  a  few  paces  she 
stopped. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  she  said,  "  this  may  be  our  last 
serious  word  together,  for  when  you  have  talked  with 
my  uncle  you  will  have  made  your  decision.  Look 
at  me,  please." 

He  looked  at  her.  Just  then  the  nightingale  be- 
gan to  sing  again,  and  curiously  enough  it  seemed  to 
him  that  a  different  note  had  crept  into  the  bird's 
song.  It  was  a  cry  for  life,  an  absolutely  pagan 
note,  which  came  to  him  through  the  velvety 
darkness. 

"  Isn't  it  your  theory,"  she  whispered,  "  to  de- 
stroy for  the  sake  of  the  future?  Don't  do  it. 
Theory  sometimes  sounds  so  sublime,  but  the  present 
is  actually  here.  Be  content  to  work  piecemeal,  to 
creep  upwards  inch  by  inch.  Life  is  something,  you 
know.  Life  is  something  for  all  of  us.  No  man  has 
the  right  to  destroy  it  for  others.  He  has  not  even 
the  right  to  destroy  it  for  himself." 

Maraton  was  suddenly  almost  giddy.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  had  relaxed  and  that  moment  was  illuminat- 
ing. Perhaps  she  saw  the  fire  which  leapt  into  his 
eyes.  If  she  did,  she  never  quailed.  Her  head  was 
within  a  few  inches  of  his,  his  arms  almost  touching 
her.  She  saw  but  she  never  moved.  If  anything, 
she  drew  a  little  nearer. 

"  Speak  to  me,"  she  begged.  "  Give  "me  some 
promise,  some  hope." 

He  was  absolutely  speechless.  A  wave  of  reminis- 
cence had  carried  him  back  into  the  study,  face  to 
face  with  an  accuser.  He  read  meaning  in  Julia's 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  115 

words  now,  a  meaning  which  at  the  time  they  had  not 
possessed.  It  was  true  that  he  was  being  tempted. 
It  was  true  that  there  was  such  a  thing  in  the  world 
as  temptation,  a  live  thing  to  the  strong  as  well  as 
to  the  weak. 

"  You  could  be  great,"  she  murmured.  "  You 
could  be  a  statesman  of  whom  we  should  all  be  proud. 
In  years  to  come,  people  would  understand,  they 
would  know  that  you  had  chosen  the  nobler  part. 
And  then  for  yourself — " 

"  For  myself,"  he  interrupted,  "  for  myself  — 
what?" 

Her  lips  parted  and  closed  again.  She  looked  at 
him  very  steadily. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  she  asked  quietly,  "  that  you 
are,  more  than  most  men,  the  builder  of  your  own 
life,  the  master  of  your  own  fate,  the  conqueror  — 
if,  indeed,  you  desired  to  possess  ?  " 

She  was  gone,  disappearing  through  a  winding 
path  amongst  the  bushes  which  he  had  never  noticed. 
He  heard  the  trailing  of  her  skirts;  the  air  around 
him  was  empty  save  for  a  breath  of  the  perfume 
shaken  from  her  gown,  and  the  song  of  the  bird. 
Then  he  heard  her  call  to  him. 

"This  way,  Mr.  Maraton  —  just  a  little  to  your 
left.  The  path  leads  right  out  on  to  the  lawn." 

"  Is  it  a  maze?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  very  ordinary  one,"  she  called  back  gaily. 
"  Follow  me  and  I  will  lead  you  out." 


Mr.  Foley  and  Lord  Armley  were  waiting  together 
in  the  library  —  not  the  smaller  apartment  into 
which  Julia  had  been  shown,  but  a  more  spacious, 
almost  a  stately  room  in  the  front  part  of  the  house. 
Upon  Maraton's  entrance,  Lord  Armley  changed  his 
position,  sitting  further  back  amongst  the  shadows 
in  a  low  easy-chair.  Maraton  took  his  place  so  that 
he  was  between  the  two  men.  It  was  Lord  Armley 
who  asked  the  first  question. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  he  enquired,  "  are  you  an 
Englishman?  " 

"  I  think  that  I  may  call  myself  so,"  Maraton  re- 
plied, with  a  smile.  "  I  was  born  in  America,  but 
my  parents  were  English." 

"  I  asked,"  Lord  Armley  continued,  "  whether  you 
were  an  Englishman,  for  two  reasons.  One  was  — 
well,  perhaps  you  might  call  it  curiosity;  the  other 
because,  if  you  are  an  Englishman,  Mr.  Foley  and  I 
are  going  to  make  a  strong  and  I  hope  successful 
appeal  to  your  patriotism." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  Maraton  replied,  "  that  you  will 
be  appealing  to  a  sentiment  of  which  I  am  ignorant." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  Mr.  Foley  asked,  "  that  you  have 
no  impulse  of  affection  for  your  own  country?  " 

"  For  my  country  as  she  exists  at  present,  none 
at  all,"  Maraton  answered.  "  That  is  where  I  am 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  117 

afraid  we  shall  find  this  conference  so  unsatisfactory. 
I  am  not  subject  to  any  of  the  ordinary  convictions 
of  life." 

"  That  certainly  makes  the  task  of  arguing  with 
you  a  little  difficult,"  Mr.  Foley  admitted.  "  We  had 
hoped  that  the  vision  of  this  country  overrun  by  a 
triumphant  enemy,  our  towns  and  our  pleasant  places 
in  the  hands  of  an  alien  race,  our  women  subject  to 
insults  from  them,  our  men  treated  with  scorn  —  we 
had  an  idea  that  the  vision  of  these  things  might 
count  with  you  for  something." 

"  For  nothing  at  all,"  Maraton  replied.  "  I  am 
not  sure  that  a  successful  invasion  of  this  country 
would  not  be  one  of  the  best  medicines  she  could 
possibly  have." 

"  Are  you  serious,  sir  ? "  Lord  Armley  asked 
grimly. 

"  Absolutely,"  Maraton  answered,  without  a  sec- 
ond's hesitation.  "  You  people  have,  after  all,  only 
an  external  feeling  for  the  deficiences  of  your  social 
system.  You  don't  feel,  really  —  you  don't  under- 
stand. To  me,  England  at  the  present  day  —  the 
whole  of  civilisation,  indeed,  but  we  are  speaking  now 
only  of  England  —  is  suffering  from  an  awful  dis- 
ease. To  me  she  is  like  a  leper.  I  cannot  think 
that  any  operation  which  could  cure  her  is  too 
severe.  She  may  have  to  spend  centuries  in  the 
hospital,  but  some  day  the  light  will  come." 

"  When  you  talk  like  that,"  Mr.  Foley  declared, 
"  you  seem  to  us,  Mr.  Maraton,  to  pass  outside  the 
pale  of  logical  argument.  But  we  want  to  under- 
stand you.  You  mean  that  for  the  sake  of  altering 


n8  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

our  social  conditions,  you  would,  if  you  thought  it 
necessary,  let  this  country  be  conquered,  plunge  her 
for  a  hundred  years  or  more  into  misery  deeper  than 
any  she  has  yet  known?  What  good  do  you  suppose 
could  come  of  this?  The  poor  who  are  poor  now 
would  starve  then.  From  whom  would  come  the 
mammoth  war  indemnity  we  should  have  to 
pay?  " 

"  Not  from  the  poor,"  Maraton  replied.  "  That  is 
one  of  my  theories.  It  would  come  from  the  very 
class  whom  I  would  willingly  see  enfeebled  —  the 
greedy,  grasping,  middle  class.  The  poor  must  exist 
automatically.  They  could  not  exist  on  lower  wages ; 
therefore,  they  will  not  get  lower  wages.  If  there 
is  no  employment  for  them,  they  will  help  themselves  to 
the  means  for  life.  If  there  is  money  in  the  country, 
they  have  a  right  to  a  part  of  it  and  they  will  take 
it.  The  unfit  amongst  them  will  die.  The  unfit  are 
better  dead." 

"  This  is  a  dangerous  doctrine,  Mr.  Maraton," 
Lord  Armley  remarked. 

"  It  is  a  primitive  law,"  Maraton  answered.  "  Put 
yourself  down  amongst  the  people,  with  a  wife  by 
your  side  and  children  crying  to  you  for  bread. 
Would  you  call  yourself  a  man  if  you  let  them  starve, 
if  you  sent  your  children  sobbing  away  from  you 
when  there  was  bread  to  be  had  for  the  fighting,  bread 
to  be  taken  from  those  who  had  also  meat?  I  think 
not.  I  am  not  afraid  of  plunging  the  country  into 
disaster.  It  is  my  belief  that  the  sufferings  and  the 
loss  which  would  ensue  would  not  fall  upon  the  class 
who  are  already  dwelling  in  misery." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  119 

Mr.  Foley  moved  nervously  to  the  mantelpiece  and 
helped  himself  to  a  cigarette. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  he  said,  "  we  will  not  argue  on 
these  lines.  I  like  to  feel  my  feet  upon  the  earth. 
I  like  to  deal  with  the  things  one  knows  about. 
Grant  me  this,  at  least;  that  it  is  possible  to  reach 
the  end  at  which  you  are  striving,  by  milder  means?  " 

"  It  may  be,"  Maraton  admitted.  "  I  am  not  sure. 
Milder  means  have  been  tried  for  a  good  many  genera- 
tions. I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  do  not  believe  it  is 
possible  by  legislation  to  redistribute  the  wealth  of 
the  world." 

Lord  Armley,  from  his  seat  amongst  the  shadows, 
smiled  sarcastically. 

"  You,  too,  Mr.  Maraton,"  he  murmured.  "  What 
is  your  answer,  I  wonder,  to  the  oft  quoted  question  ? 
You  may  redistribute  wealth,  but  how  do  you  pro- 
pose to  keep  it  in  a  state  of  equilibrium  ?  " 

Maraton  smiled. 

"  There  would  have  to  be  three,  perhaps  half-a- 
dozen —  who  can  tell  how  many?  —  redistributions 
by  violent  means,"  he  replied,  "  but  remember  that  all 
this  time,  education,  clean  living,  freedom  from  sor- 
did anxieties,  would  be  telling  upon  the  lower  orders. 
As  their  physical  condition  improved,  so  would  their 
minds.  As  the  conditions  under  which  men  live  be- 
come more  equal,  so  will  their  brains  become  more  equal 
and  their  power  of  acquiring  wealth.  This,  remem- 
ber, may  be  the  work  of  a  hundred  years  —  perhaps 
more  —  but  it  is  the  end  at  which  we  should  aim." 

"  You  absolutely  mean,  then,"  Mr.  Foley  persisted, 
"  to  destroy  the  welfare  of  the  country  for  this  genera- 


120  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

tion  and  perhaps  the  next,  in  order  that  a  new 
people  may  arise,  governed  according  to  your  methods, 
in  ages  which  neither  you  nor  I  nor  any  of  us  will 
ever  see?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  mean,"  Maraton  assented. 
"  Need  I  remind  you  that  if  we  had  not  possessed  in 
the  past  men  who  gave  their  lives  for  the  sake  of 
posterity,  the  nations  of  the  world  would  be  even 
in  a  more  backward  condition  than  they  are  to-day  ?  " 

Mr.  Foley  smiled. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  he  said,  "  now  I  am  going  to 
ask  you  this  question.  To-morrow  you  go  to  Man- 
chester to  pronounce  your  doctrines.  To-morrow 
you  are  going  to  incite  the  working  people  of  Eng- 
land practicaUy  to  revolt.  Are  you  going  to  tell 
them  that  it  is  for  posterity  they  must  strike?  Do 
you  mean,  when  you  thunder  at  them  from  the  plat- 
forms, to  tell  them  the  truth  ?  —  to  tell  them  that  the 
good  which  you  promise  is  not  for  them  nor  for 
their  children,  nor  their  children's  children,  but  for 
the  unborn  generations?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  them 
this?" 

Maraton  was  silent.  Lord  Armley  was  watching 
him  closely.  Mr.  Foley's  eyes  were  bright,  and  a 
little  flush  had  stained  the  parchment  pallor  of  his 
cheeks.  He  was  feeling  all  the  thrill  of  the  fencer 
who  has  touched. 

"  I  cannot  convince  you,  Mr.  Maraton,"  he  went 
on,  "  that  yours  is  not  a  splendid  dream,  an  idyllic 
vision,  which  would  fade  from  the  canvas  before  even 
the  colours  were  dry,  but  you  have  common  sense,  and 
I  hope  at  least  I  can  persuade  you  to  see  this.  You 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  121 

won't  rally  the  working  men  of  England  to  your 
standard  under  that  motto.  That's  why  their  leaders 
are  ignorant  and  commonplace  men.  They  know  very 
well  that  it's  to  the  pockets  of  their  hearers  they 
must  appeal.  A  shilling  a  week  more  now  is  what 
they  want,  not  to  have  their  children  born  to  a  better 
life,  and  their  children's  children  move  on  the  up- 
ward plane.  Human  nature  isn't  like  that,  especially 
the  human  nature  which  I  admit  has  suffered  from 
the  selfishness  and  greediness  of  the  middle  classes 
through  all  these  years.  The  people  aren't  ready 
to  dream  dreams.  They  want  money  in  their  pockets, 
cash,  so  much  a  week  —  nothing  else.  I  tell  you 
that  self-interest  is  before  the  eyes  of  every  one  of 
those  Lancashire  operatives  to  whom  you  are  going 
to  speak.  An  hour  or  so  less  work  a  week,  an  ounce 
more  of  tobacco,  a  glass  of  beer  when  he  feels  in- 
clined, a  little  more  money  in  the  bank  —  that's  what 
he  wants." 

"  You  may  be  speaking  the  truth,  Mr.  Foley," 
Maraton  confessed  quietly.  "  At  any  rate,  you  have 
voiced  some  of  my  deepest  fears.  I  know  that  I 
cannot  bring  the  people  to  my  standard  by  showing 
them  the  whole  of  my  mind.  But  why  should  I? 
If  I  know  that  my  cause  is  just,  if  I  know  that  it  is 
for  the  good  of  the  world,  isn't  it  my  duty  to  con- 
ceal as  much  as  I  find  it  wise  to  conceal,  to  keep  my 
hand  to  the  plough,  even  though  I  drive  it  through 
the  fields  of  devastation?  " 

"  Then  your  mission  is  not  an  honest  one,"  Lord 
Armley  declared  suddenly.  "  It  is  dishonest  that 
good  things  may  come  of  it." 


122  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  It  is  possible  to  reason  like  that,"  Maraton  ad- 
mitted. 

"  Now,  listen,"  Mr.  Foley  continued.  "  I  will  show 
you  the  other  way.  I  will  look  with  you  into  the 
future.  I  cannot  agree  with  all  your  views  but  I, 
too,  would  like  to  see  the  diminution  of  capital  from 
the  hands  of  the  manufacturers  and  the  middle 
classes,  and  an  increase  of  prosperity  to  the  opera- 
tives. I  would  like  to  see  the  gulf  between  them; 
narrowed  year  by  year.  I  would  like  to  see  the 
working  man  everywhere  established  in  quarters 
where  life  is  wholesome  and  pleasant.  I  would  like 
to  see  his  schools  better,  even,  than  they  are  at  present. 
I  would  like  to  see  him,  in  the  years  to  come,  a 
stronger,  a  more  capable,  a  more  dignified  unit  of  the 
Empire.  He  can  only  be  made  so  by  prosperity. 
Therefore,  I  wish  for  him  prosperity.  You  want  to 
sow  the  country  red  with  ruin  and  fire,  and  there  isn't 
any  man  breathing,  not  even  you,  can  tell  exactly  what 
the  outcome  of  it  all  might  be.  I  want  to  work 
at  the  same  thing  more  gently.  Last  year  for  the 
first  time,  I  passed  a  Bill  in  Parliament  which  in- 
terfered between  the  relations  of  master  and  man. 
In  a  certain  trade  dispute  I  compelled  the  employers, 
by  Act  of  Parliament,  to  agree  to  a  vital  principle 
upon  which  the  men  insisted.  The  night  I  drove 
home  from  the  House  I  said  to  Lady  Elisabeth,  my 
niece,  that  that  measure,  small  though  it  was,  marked 
a  new  era  in  the  social  conditions  of  the  country. 
It  did.  What  I  have  commenced,  I  am  pre- 
pared to  go  on  with.  I  am  prepared  by  every 
logical  and  honest  means  to  legislate  for  la- 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  123 

hour.  I  am  prepared  to  legislate  in  such  a 
way  that  the  prosperity  of  the  manufacturer,  all  the 
manufacturers  in  this  country,  must  be  shared 
by  the  workpeople.  I  am  prepared  to  fight,  tooth 
and  nail,  against  twenty  per  cent  dividends  on  capi- 
tal and  twenty-five  shillings  a  week  wages  for  the 
operative.  There  are  others  in  the  Cabinet  of  my 
point  of  view.  In  a  couple  of  years  we  must  go 
to  the  country.  I  am  going  to  the  country  to  ask 
for  a  people's  government.  Go  to  Manchester,  if 
you  must,  but  talk  common  sense  to  the  people. 
Let  them  strike  where  they  are  subject  to  wrongs, 
and  I  promise  you  that  I  am  on  their  side,  and  every 
pressure  that  my  Government  can  bring  to  bear 
upon  the  employers,  shall  be  used  in  their  favour. 
You  shall  win  —  you  as  the  champion  of  the  men, 
shall  win  all  along  the  line.  You  shall  improve  the 
conditions  of  every  one  of  those  industries  in  the 
north.  But  —  it  must  be  done  legitimately  and  with- 
out sinister  complications.  I  know  what  is  in  your 
mind,  Mr.  Maraton,  quite  well.  I  know  your  pro- 
posal. It  is  in  your  mind  to  have  the  railway  strike, 
the  coal  strike,  the  ironfounders'  strike,  and  the 
strike  of  the  Lancashire  operatives,  all  take  place 
on  the  same  day.  You  intend  to  lay  the  country 
pulseless  and  motionless.  You  won't  accept  terms. 
You  court  disaster  —  disaster  which  you  refer 
to  as  an  operation.  Don't  do  it.  Try  my  way. 
I  offer  you  certain  success.  I  offer  you  my  alli- 
ance, a  seat  in  Parliament  at  once,  a  place  in  my 
Government  in  two  years'  time.  What  more 
can  you  ask  for?  What  more  can  you  do  for 


I24  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

the  people  than  fight  for  them  side  by  side  with 
me?" 

Maraton  had  moved  a  little  nearer  to  the  window. 
He  was  looking  out  into  the  night.  Very  faintly 
now  in  the  distant  woods  he  could  still  catch  the 
song  of  the  nightingale.  Almost  he  fancied  in  the 
shadows  that  he  could  catch  sight  of  Julia's  strained 
face  leaning  towards  him,  the  face  of  the  prophetess, 
warning  him  against  the  easy  ways,  calling  to  him 
to  remember.  His  principles  had  been  to  him  a  part 
of  his  life.  What  if  he  should  be  wrong?  What  if 
he  should  bring  misery  and  suffering  upon  millions 
upon  millions,  for  the  sake  of  a  generation  which 
might  never  be  born?  There  was  something  prac- 
tical about  Mr.  Foley's  offer,  an  offer  which  could 
have  been  made  only  by  a  great  man.  His  brain 
moved  swiftly.  As  he  stood  there,  he  seemed  to 
look  out  upon  a  vast  plain  of  misery,  a  country  of 
silent  furnaces,  of  smokeless  chimneys,  a  country 
drooping  and  lifeless,  dotted  with  the  figures  of 
dying  men  and  women.  What  an  offering!  What 
a  sacrifice?  Would  the  people  still  believe  in  him 
when  the  blow  fell  ?  Could  he  himself  pass  out  of  life 
with  the  memory  of  it  all  in  his  mind,  and  feel  that 
his  life's  work  had  been  good?  He  remained  speech- 
less. 

"  Let  me  force  one  more  argument  upon  you," 
Mr.  Foley  continued.  "  You  must  know  a  little  what 
type  of  mind  is  most  common  amongst  Labour.  I 
ask  you  what  will  be  the  attitude  of  Labour  towards 
the  starvation  of  the  next  ten  or  twenty  years,  if 
you  should  bring  the  ruin  you  threaten  upon  the 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  125 

country?  I  ask  you  to  use  your  common  sense.  Of 
what  use  would  you  be?  Who  would  listen  to  you? 
If  they  left  you  alive,  would  any  audience  of  starv- 
ing men  and  women,  looking  back  upon  the  com- 
parative prosperity  of  the  past,  listen  to  a  word 
from  your  lips.  Believe  me,  they  would  not.  They 
would  be  more  likely,  if  they  found  you,  to  rend 
you  limb  from  limb.  The  operatives  of  this  country 
are  not  dreamers.  They  don't  want  to  give  their 
wives  and  children,  and  their  own  selves,  body  and 
soul,  for  a  dream.  Therefore,  I  come  back  to  the 
sane  common  sense  of  the  whole  affair.  By  this 
time  next  year,  if  you  use  your  power  to  bring  de- 
struction upon  this  country,  your  name  will  be  loathed 
and  detested  amongst  the  very  people  for  whose  sake 
you  do  it." 

Maraton   turned   away. 

"  You  have  put  some  of  my  own  fears  before  me, 
Mr.  Foley,"  he  confessed,  "  in  a  new  and  very  im- 
pressive light.  If  I  thought  that  I  myself  were  the 
only  one  who  could  teach,  you  would  indeed  terrify 
me.  The  doctrines  in  which  I  believe,  however,  will 
endure,  even  though  I  should  pass." 

"  Endure  to  be  discarded  and  despised  by  all  think- 
ing men ! "  Lord  Armley  exclaimed. 

"  You  may  be  right,"  Maraton  admitted,  slowly. 
"  I  cannot  say.  Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  make  you 
no  answer  at  all  to-night?  My  thoughts  are  a  little 
confused.  You  have  made  me  see  myself  with  your 
eyes,  and  I  wish  to  reconsider  certain  matters.  Be- 
fore I  go,  perhaps  you  will  give  me  ten  minutes  more 
to  discuss  them?  " 


i26  A   PEOPLE'S    MAN 

Mr.  Foley  was  still  a  little  flushed  as  they  shook 
hands. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  declared,  "  very  glad  that  you 
are  at  least  going  to  think  over  what  I  have  said. 
You  must  have  common  sense.  I  have  read  your 
book,  backwards  and  forwards.  I  have  read  your 
articles  in  the  American  reviews  and  in  the  English 
papers.  There  is  nothing  more  splendid  than  the 
visions  you  write  of,  but  there  is  no  gangway  across 
from  this  world  into  the  world  of  dreams,  Mr.  Mara- 
ton.  Remember  that,  and  remember,  too,  how  great 
your  responsibility  is.  I  have  never  tried  to  hide 
from  you  what  I  believe  your  real  power  to  be.  I 
have  always  said  that  the  moment  a  real  leader  was 
found,  the  country  would  be  in  danger.  You  are 
that  leader.  For  God's  sake,  Mr.  Maraton,  realise 
your  responsibility !  .  .  .  Now  shall  we  go  back  into 
the  gardens  or  into  the  drawing-room?  My  niece 
will  sing  to  us,  if  you  are  fond  of  music." 

Maraton  excused  himself  and  slipped  out  into  the 
gardens  alone.  For  more  than  an  hour  he  walked 
restlessly  about,  without  relief,  without  gaining  any 
added  clearness  of  vision.  The  atmosphere  of  the 
place  seemed  to  him  somehow  enervating.  The  little 
walk  amongst  the  rhododendrons  was  still  fragrant 
with  perfume,  reminiscent  of  that  strange  moment 
of  emotion.  The  air  was  still  languorous.  Although 
the  nightingale's  song  had  ceased,  the  atmosphere 
seemed  still  vibrating  with  the  music  of  his  past 
song.  He  stood  before  the  window  of  the  room 
where  he  had  talked  with  Julia.  What  would  she 
say,  he  wondered?  Would  she  think  that  he  had 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  127 

sold  his  soul  if  he  chose  the  more  peaceful  way?  It 
was  a  night  of  perplexed  thoughts,  confused  emo- 
tions. One  thing  only  was  clear.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life  certain  dreams,  which  had  been  as  dear 
to  him  as  life  itself,  had  received  a  shattering  blow. 
Always  he  had  spoken  and  acted  from  conviction. 
It  was  that  which  had  given  his  words  their  splendid 
force.  It  was  that  which  had  made  the  words  which 
he  had  spoken  live  as  though  they  had  been  winged 
with  fire.  Perhaps  it  was  his  own  fault.  Perhaps 
he  should  have  avoided  altogether  this  house  of  the 
easier  ways. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

From  the  atmosphere  of  Lyndwood  Park  and  its 
surroundings  —  fragrant,  almost  epicurean  —  Mara- 
ton  passed  to  the  hard  squalor  of  the  great  smoke- 
hung  city  of  the  north.  There  were  no  beautiful 
women  or  cultured  men  to  bid  him  welcome.  The 
Labour  Member  and  his  companion,  who  hastened 
him  out  of  the  train  at  Derby  and  into  an  open 
motor-car,  were  hard-featured  Lancashire  men,  keen 
on  their  work  and  practical  as  the  day.  As  they 
talked  together  in  that  long,  ugly  ride,  Maraton  al- 
most smiled  as  he  thought  of  those  perfervid  dreams 
of  his  which  had  always  been  at  the  back  of  his  head ; 
that  creed  of  life,  some  part  of  which  he  had  in- 
tended to  unfold  to  the  people  during  these  few  days. 

"  Plain-speaking  is  what  our  folk  like,"  John  Hen- 
neford  assured  him,  as  they  sat  side  by  side  in  the 
small  open  car  driven  by  one  of  the  committee; 
"  plain,  honest  words ;  sound  advice,  with  a  bit  o* 
grit  in  it." 

"  *  To  hell  with  the  masters ! '  is  the  motto  they 
like  best,"  Preston  remarked,  moving  his  pipe  to 
the  corner  of  his  mouth.  "  It's  an  old  text  but  it's 
an  ever  popular  one.  There's  the  mill  where  I  work, 
now,  fourteen  hundred  of  us.  The  girls  average 
from  eighteen  bob  to  a  pound  a  week,  men  twenty- 
four  to  twenty-eight,  foremen  thirty-five  to  two 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  129 

pounds.  It's  not  much  of  wages.  The  house  rent's 
high  in  these  parts,  and  food,  too.  The  business  lias 
just  been  turned  into  a  company  —  capital  three  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds,  profits  last  year  forty-two 
thousand.  That's  after  paying  us  our  bit.  That's 
the  sort  of  thing  turns  the  blood  of  the  people  sour 
up  here.  It  was  the  aristocrats  brought  about  the 
revolution  in  France.  It  will  be  the  manufacturers 
who  do  it  here,  and  do  it  quick  unless  things  are 
altered.  They  tell  me  you're  a  bit  of  a  revolution- 
ist, Mr.  Maraton." 

"  I'm  anything,"  Maraton  answered,  "  that  will 
do  away  with  such  profits  as  you've  been  speaking 
of.  I  am  anything  which  will  bring  a  fair  share  of 
the  profits  of  his  labour  to  the  operative  who  now  gets 
none.  I  hate  capital.  It's  a  false  quantity,  a  false 
value.  It's  got  to  come  back  to  the  people.  It  be- 
longs to  them." 

"  You're  right,  man,"  Henneford  declared  grimly. 
"How  are  you  going  to  get  it  back,  eh?  Show  us. 
We  are  powerful  up  here.  We  could  paralyse  trade 
from  the  Clyde  to  the  Thames,  if  we  thought  it  would 
do  any  good.  What's  your  text  to-night,  Mr.  Mara- 
ton?" 

"  I  haven't  thought,"  Maraton  replied.  "  I  have 
plenty  to  say  to  the  people  though." 

"  You  gave  'em  what  for  in  Chicago,"  Preston 
remarked,  with  a  grin. 

"  I  haven't  been  used  to  mince  words,"  Maraton 
admitted. 

"  There's  four  thousand  policemen  told  off  to  look 
after  you,"  Henneford  informed  him.  "  By-the-bye, 


130  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

is  it  true  that  Dale  and  all  of  them  are  coming  up; 
to-night?  " 

Maraton  nodded. 

"  I  wired  for  some  of  them,"  he  assented.  "  So 
long  as  I  am  going  to  make  a  definite  pronouncement, 
they  may  as  well  hear  it." 

"  Been  spending  the  week-end  with  Foley,  haven't 
you?  "  Preston  enquired,  closing  his  eyes  a  little. 

Maraton  nodded. 

"  Yes,"  he  confessed,  "  I  have  been  there." 

"  There  are  many  that  don't  think  much  of  Foley," 
Henneford  remarked.  "  Myself  I  am  not  sure  what 
to  make  of  him.  I  think  he'd  be  a  people's  man,  right 
enough,  if  it  wasn't  for  the  Cabinet." 

"  I  believe,  in  my  heart,"  Maraton  said,  "  that  he 
is  a  people's  man." 

They  sped  on  through  deserted  spaces,  past  smoke- 
stained  factories,  across  cobbled  streets,  past  a  wilder- 
ness of  small  houses,  grimy,  everywhere  repellent. 
Soon  they  entered  Manchester  by  the  back  way  and 
pulled  up  presently  at  a  small  and  unimposing 
hotel. 

"  We've  taken  a  room  for  you  here,"  Henneford 
announced.  "  It's  close  to  the  hall,  and  it's  quiet 
and  clean  enough.  The  big  hotels  I  doubt  whether 
you'd  ever  be  able  to  get  out  of,  when  once  they 
found  where  you  were." 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  Preston  added,  "  there's 
a  room  taken  in  your  name  at  the  Midland,  to  put 
folks  off  a  bit.  We'll  have  to  smuggle  you  out  here 
if  there's  any  trouble  to-night.  The  people  are  rare 
and  restless." 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  131 

"  It  will  do  very  nicely,  I  am  sure,"  Maraton  re- 
plied. 

The  place  was  an  ordinary  commercial  hotel,  clean 
apparently  but  otherwise  wholly  unattractive. 
Henneford  led  the  way  up-stairs  and  with  some  pride 
threw  open  the  door  of  a  room  on  the  first  floor. 

"  We've  got  you  a  sitting-room,"  he  said. 
"  Thought  you  might  want  to  talk  to  these  Press 
people,  perhaps,  or  do  a  bit  of  work.  Your  secre- 
tary's somewhere  about  the  place  —  turned  up  with 
a  typewriter  early  this  morning.  And  there's  a 
young  woman  — " 

"A  what?"  Maraton  asked. 

"  A  young  woman,"  Henneford  continued, —  "  sec- 
retary's sister  or  something." 

Maraton  smiled. 

"Miss  Thurnbrein." 

"What,  the  tailoress?  "  Preston  replied.  "She's 
a  good  sort.  Wrote  rare  stuff,  she  did,  about  her 
trade.  They  are  out  together,  seeing  the  sights. 
Didn't  expect  you  quite  so  soon,  I  expect." 

Maraton  looked  around  the  little  sitting-room.  It 
was  furnished  with  a  carpet  of  bright  green  thrown 
over  a  foundation  of  linoleum,  a  suite  of  stamped 
magenta  plush,  an  overmantel,  gilt  cornices  over  the 
windows,  a  piano,  a  table  covered  with  a  gaudy  table- 
cloth. On  the  walls  were  hung  some  oleographs. 
The  lighting  of  the  room  was  of  gas  with  incan- 
descent mantles.  There  had  been,  apparently,  judg- 
ing by  an  odour  which  still  remained,  a  great  deal 
of  beer  consumed  in  the  apartment  at  one  time  or 
another. 


132  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Nice  room,  this,"  Mr.  Henneford  remarked  ap- 
provingly. "  Slap  up,  ain't  it?  Your  bedroom's  next 
door,  and  your  secretary's  just  round  the  corner. 
Done  you  proud,  I  reckon.  Like  a  royal  suite,  eh?  " 

He  laughed  good-humouredly.  Mr.  Preston  re- 
moved his  pipe  and  rang  the  bell. 

"  One  drink,  I  think,"  he  suggested,  "  and  we'll 
leave  Mr.  Maraton  alone  for  a  bit.  You  and  I'll  go 
down  to  the  station  and  meet  the  chaps  from  London, 
and  we'll  have  a  meeting  up  here  —  say  at  five 
o'clock.  That  suit  you,  Mr.  Maraton?" 

"  Excellently,"  Maraton  assented.  "  What  shall 
I  order?  "  he  asked,  as  the  waiter  entered. 

Beer,  whiskey  and  cigars  were  brought.  Maraton 
asked  a  few  eager  questions  about  the  condition  of 
one  of  the  industries,  and  followed  Henneford  to 
the  door,  talking  rapidly. 

"  I  know  so  little  about  the  state  of  woman  labour 
over  here,"  he  said.  "  In  America  they  are  better 
paid  in  proportion.  Perhaps,  if  Miss  Thurnbrein  is 
here,  she  will  be  able  to  give  me  some  information." 

"  You'll  soon  get  posted  up,"  Mr.  Henneford  de- 
clared. "  I  can  see  you've  got  a  quick  way  of  dealing 
with  things.  So  long  till  five  o'clock,  then.  There's 
a  dozen  chaps  waiting  down-stairs  to  see  you.  We'll 
leave  it  to  your  judgment  just  what  you  want  to 
say  to  the  Press.  Ring  the  bell  and  have  the  waiter 
bring  their  cards  up." 

They  departed  and  Maraton  returned  to  his  sit- 
ting-room. He  stood  for  a  moment  looking  out  over 
the  city,  the  roar  of  which  came  to  him  clearly 
enough  through  the  open  window.  He  forgot  the 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  133 

depressing  tawdriness  of  his  surroundings  in  the  ex- 
hilaration of  the  sound.  He  was  back  again  amongst 
the  people,  back  again  where  the  wheels  of  life  were 
crashing.  The  people !  He  drew  himself  up  and  his 
eyes  sought  the  furthest  limits  of  that  dim  yellow 
haze.  Somehow,  notwithstanding  a  vague  uneasiness 
which  hung  about  him  like  an  effort  of  wounded  con- 
science, he  had  a  still  greater  buoj^ancy  of  thought 
when  he  considered  his  possibly  altered  attitude  to- 
wards the  multitude  who  waited  for  his  message.  He 
felt  his  feet  upon  the  earth  with  more  certainty,  with 
more  implicit  realism,  than  in  those  days  when  he 
had  spoken  to  them  of  the  future  and  had  perhaps 
forgotten  to  tell  them  how  far  away  that  future 
must  be.  There  was  something  more  practical  about 
his  present  attitude.  What  would  they  say  here  in 
Manchester,  expecting  fire  and  thunder  from  his 
lips  and  finding  him  hold  out  the  olive  branch?  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders ;  —  a  useless  speculation,  after 
all.  He  rang  the  bell  and  glanced  through  the  cards 
which  the  waiter  brought  him. 

"  I  have  nothing  of  importance  to  say  to  any  re- 
porters," he  declared,  "  but  I  will  see  them  all  for 
two  minutes.  You  can  show  them  up  in  the  order 
in  which  they  came." 

The  waiter  withdrew  and  Maraton  was  loft  for  a 
few  moments  alone.  Then  the  door  was  opened  and 
closed  again  by  the  waiter,  who  made  no  announce- 
ment. A  man  came  forward  —  a  small  man,  very 
neatly  dressed,  with  gold  spectacles  and  a  little  black 
beard.  Maraton  welcomed  him  and  pointed  to  a 
chair. 


134  A   PEOPLE'S    MAN 

"  I  have  nothing  whatever  to  say  to  the  news- 
papers," he  explained,  "  until  after  I  have  addressed 
my  first  few  meetings.  You  probably  will  have  noth- 
ing to  ask  me  then.  All  the  same,  I  am  very  pleased  to 
see  you,  and  since  you  have  been  waiting,  I  thought 
I  had  better  have  you  come  up,  if  it  were  only 
for  a  moment.  No  one  who  has  a  great  cause  at 
their  backs,  you  know,  can  afford  to  disregard  the 
Press." 

The  man  laid  his  hat  upon  the  table.  Maraton, 
glancing  across  the  room  at  him,  was  instantly  con- 
scious that  this  newcomer  was  no  ordinary  person. 
He  had  a  strong,  intellectual  forehead,  a  well-shaped 
mouth.  His  voice,  when  he  spoke,  was  pleasant,  al- 
though his  accent  was  peculiar  —  almost  foreign. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  his  visitor  began,  "  I  thank  you 
very  much  for  your  courtesy,  but  I  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  Press.  My  name  is  Beldeman.  I  have 
come  to  Manchester  especially  to  see  you." 

Maraton  nodded. 

"  We  are  strangers,  I  believe  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Strangers  personally.  No  thinking  man  to-day 
is  a  stranger  to  Mr.  Maraton  in  any  other  way." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  Maraton  replied.  "  What 
can  I  do  for  you?" 

Beldeman  glanced  towards  the  door  so  as  to  be 
sure  that  it  was  closed. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  he  enquired,  "  are  you  a  bad- 
tempered  man  ?  " 

"  At  times,"  Maraton  admitted. 

"  I  regret  to  see,"  his  visitor  proceeded,  "  that  you 
are  a  man  of  superior  physique  to  min^.  I  am  here 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  135 

to  make  you  an  offer  which  you  may  consider  an  in- 
sult. If  you  are  a  narrow,  ordinary  Englishman, 
obstinate,  with  cast-iron  principles  and  the  usual 
prejudices,  you  will  probably  try  to  throw  me  down- 
stairs. It  is  part  of  my  living  to  run  the  risk  of 
being  thrown  down-stairs." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  Maraton  promised  him,  "  to 
restrain  myself.  You  have  at  least  succeeded  in  ex- 
citing my  curiosity." 

"  I  am,  to  look  at,"  Mr.  Beldeman  continued,  "  an 
unimportant  person.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  repre- 
sent a  very  great  country,  and  I  come  to  you  charged 
with  a  great  mission." 

Maraton  became  a  little  graver. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  anxious  —  perhaps  over-anxious,"  Mr. 
Beldeman  proceeded,  "  that  I  should  put  this  matter 
before  you  in  the  most  favourable  light.  I  must 
confess  that  I  have  spent  hours  trying  to  make  up 
my  mind  exactly  how  I  should  tell  you  my  business. 
I  have  changed  my  mind  so  many  times  that  there 
is  nothing  left  of  my  original  intention.  I  speak 
now  as  the  thoughts  come  to  me.  I  am  here  on 
behalf  of  a  syndicate  of  manufacturers  —  foreign 
manufacturers  —  to  offer  you  a  bribe." 

Maraton  stood  quite  still  upon  the  hearth-rug. 
His  face  showed  no  emotion  whatever. 

"  You  are,  I  believe,"  Mr.  Beldeman  went  on,  "  only 
half  an  Englishman.  That  is  why  I  am  hoping  that 
you  will  behave  like  a  reasonable  being,  and  that  my 
person  may  be  saved  from  violence.  Upon  your 
word  rests  the  industrial  future  of  this  country  for 


I36  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

the  next  ten  years.  If  your  forges  burn  out  and 
your  factories  are  emptied,  it  will  mean  an  era  of 
prosperity  for  my  country,  indescribable.  We  are 
great  trade  rivals.  We  need  just  the  opening. 
What  we  get  we  may  not  be  able  to  hold  altogether, 
when  trade  is  once  more  good  here,  but  that  is  of 
no  consequence.  We  shall  have  it  for  a  year  or 
two,  and  that  year  or  two  will  mean  a  good  many 
millions  to  us." 

Maraton's  eyes  began  to  twinkle. 

"  The  matter,"  he  remarked,  "  becomes  clearer  to 
me.  You  are  either  the  most  ingenuous  person  I 
ever  met,  or  the  most  subtle.  Tell  me,  is  it  a  per- 
sonal bribe  you  have  brought?  " 

"  It  is  not,"  Mr.  Beldeman  replied.  "  It  did  not 
occur  to  those  in  whose  employment  I  am,  or  to  me, 
to  offer  you  a  single  sixpence.  I  am  here  to  offer 
you,  if  you  send  your  people  out  on  strike  within 
the  next  week  —  the  coal  strike,  the  railway  strike, 
the  ironfounders,  the  smelters,  from  the  Clyde  south- 
wards —  one  million  pounds  as  a  subscription  to  your 
strike  funds." 

"  You  have  it  with  you  ?  "  Maraton  enquired,  after 
a  moment. 

"  I  have  four  drafts  for  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  pounds  each,  in  my  pocket-book  at  the  pres- 
ent moment,"  Mr.  Beldeman  declared.  "  They  are 
payable  to  your  order.  You  can  accept  my  offer  and 
pay  them  into  your  private  banking  account  or  the 
banking  account  of  any  one  of  your  Trades'  Unions. 
There  is  not  the  slightest  doubt  but  that  they  will 
be  met." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  137 

"  Are  there  any  terms  at  all  connected  with  this 
little  subscription?  " 

"  None,"  Beldeman  replied. 

"  And  your  object,"  Maraton  added,  "  is  to  bene- 
fit through  our  loss  of  trade?" 

"  Entirely,"  Mr.  Beldeman  assented,  without  a 
quiver  upon  his  face. 

Maraton  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  I  do  not  see  my  way  absolutely  clear,"  he  an- 
nounced, "  to  recommending  a  railway  strike  at  the 
present  moment.  If  I  acceded  to  all  the  others,  what 
v/ould  your  position  be?  The  railway  strike  is  of 
little  consequence  to  a  foreign  nation.  The  coal 
strike,  and  the  iron  and  steel  works  of  Sheffield  and 
Leeds  closed  —  that's  where  English  trade  would  suf- 
fer most,  especially  if  the  cotton  people  came  out." 

Mr.  Beldeman  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"  My  conditions,"  he  said,  "  embrace  the  railways." 

"  Somehow,  I  fancied  that  they  would,"  Maraton 
remarked.  "  Tell  me  why  ?  " 

Beldeman  rose  slowly  to  his  feet. 

"  Are  you  an  Englishman  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  can't  deny  it,"  Maraton  replied.  "  I  was  born 
abroad.  Why  are  you  so  interested  in  my  nation- 
ality?" 

Beldeman   shrugged  his   shoulders. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you.  Just  an  idea.  I  do  not  wish 
to  say  too  much.  I  wish  you  only  to  consider  what 
a  million  pounds  will  do  to  help  your  work  people. 
You,  they  say,  are  one  of  those  who  love  the  people 
as  your  own  children.  A  million  pounds  may  en- 
able them  to  hold  out  until  they  can  secure  practi- 


i38  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

cally  what  terms  they  like.  Those  million  pounds  are 
yours  to-day,  yours  for  the  people,  if  you  pledge  your 
word  to  a  universal  strike." 

"  Including  the  railways  ?  " 

"  Including  the  railways,"  Mr.  Beldeman  assented. 

Maraton  smiled  quietly. 

"  I  do  not  ask  you,"  he  said,  "  what  country  you 
represent.  I  think  that  it  is  not  necessary.  You 
have  come  to  me  rather  as  though  I  were  a  dictator. 
There  are  others  besides  myself  with  whom  influence 
rests." 

"  It  is  you  only  who  count,"  Mr.  Beldeman  de- 
clared. "  I  am  thankful  that  at  any  rate  you  have 
met  my  offer  in  a  reasonable  spirit.  Accept  it,  Mr. 
Maraton.  What  concern  have  you  for  other  things 
save  only  for  the  welfare  of  the  people  ?  " 

"  I  have  considered  this  matter,"  Maraton  re- 
marked, "  many,  many  times.  A  universal  strike,  ab- 
solutely universal  so  far  as  regards  transport  and 
coal,  would  place  the  country  in  a  paralytic  and  help- 
less condition.  Still,  so  many  people  have  assured 
us  that  an  onslaught  from  any  foreign  country  is 
never  seriously  to  be  considered,  that  I  have  come 
to  believe  it  myself.  What  is  your  opinion?  " 

Mr.  Beldeman  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments. 

"  One  cannot  tell,"  he  said.  "  The  stock  of  coal 
available  for  your  home  fleet  happens  to  be  rather 
low  just  now.  One  cannot  tell  what  might  happen. 
Do  you  greatly  care?  Wasn't  it  you  who,  in  one  of 
jour  speeches,  pointed  out  that  a  war  in  your  coun- 
ty would  be  welcome?  That  the  class  who  would 
Suffer  would  be  the  class  who  are  your  great  op- 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  139 

pressors  —  the  manufacturers,  the  middle  classes  — 
and  that  with  their  downfall  the  working  man  would 
struggle  upwards?  Do  you  believe,  Mr.  Maraton, 
that  a  war  would  hurt  your  own  people?  " 

"  My  own  ideas,"  Maraton  replied,  "  are  in  a  state 
of  transition.  However,  your  offer  is  declined." 

"Declined  without  conditions?"  Mr.  Beldeman 
enquired,  taking  up  his  hat. 

"  For  the  present  it  is  declined  without  conditions. 
I  will  be  quite  frank  with  you.  Your  offer  doesn't 
shock  me  as  it  might  do  if  I  were  a  right-feeling 
Imperialist  of  the  proper  Jingo  type.  I  believe  that 
a  week  ago  I  should  have  considered  it  very  seriously 
indeed.  Its  acceptance  would  have  been  in  accord- 
ance with  my  beliefs.  And  yet,  since  you  have  made 
it,  you  have  made  me  wonder  more  than  ever  whether 
I  have  been  right.  I  find  a  revulsion  of  feeling  in 
considering  it,  which  I  cannot  understand." 

"  I  may  approach  you  again,"  Mr.  Beldeman 
asked,  "  if  circumstances  should  change  ?  Possibly 
you  yourself  may,  upon  reflection,  appreciate  my 
suggestion  more  thoroughly." 

Maraton  was  silent  for  a  moment.  When  he 
looked  up  he  was  alone.  Mr.  Beldeman  had  not 
waited  for  his  reply. 


CHAPTER  XV 

One  by  one,  Maraton  got  rid  at  last  of  the  little 
crowd  of  journalists  who  had  been  waiting  for  him 
below.  The  last  on  the  list  was  perhaps  the  most 
difficult.  He  pressed  very  hard  for  an  answer  to 
his  direct  question. 

"  War  or  peace,  Mr.  Maraton  ?  Which  is  it  to 
be?  Just  one  word,  that's  all." 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  In  less  than  an  hour,  the  delegates  from  London 
will  be  here,"  he  announced.  "  We  shall  hold  a  con- 
ference and  come  to  our  decision  then." 

"  Will  their  coming  make  any  real  difference?" 
the  journalist  persisted.  "  You  hadn't  much  to  say 
to  delegates  in  America." 

"  The  Labour  Party  over  here  is  better  organised, 
in  some  respects,"  Maraton  told  him.  "  I  have 
nothing  to  say  until  after  the  conference." 

His  persistent  visitor  drew  a  little  nearer  to  him. 

"  There's  a  report  about  that  you've  been  staying 
with  Foley." 

"  And  how  does  that  affect  the  matter  ?  "  Maraton 
enquired. 

The  journalist  looked  him  in  the  face. 

"  The  men  never  had  a  leader  yet,"  he  said,  *'  whom 
officialdom  didn't  spoil." 

All  this  time  Maraton  was  standing  with  the  door 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  141 

in  one  hand  and  his  other  hand  upon  the  shoulder 
of  the  man  whom  he  was  endeavouring  to  get  rid  of. 
His  grasp  suddenly  tightened.  The  door  was  closed 
and  the  reporter  was  outside.  Maraton  turned  to 
Aaron,  with  whom,  as  yet,  he  had  scarcely  exchanged 
a  word.  The  latter  was  sitting  at  a  table,  sorting 
letters. 

"  How  long  will  those  fellows  be?  "  he  asked. 

Aaron  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"  On  their  way  here  by  now,  I  should  say,"  he 
replied.  "  They  are  all  coming.  They  tried  to 
leave  David  Ross  behind,  but  he  wouldn't  have  it." 

Maraton  nodded  grimly. 

"  Too  many,"  he  muttered. 

Aaron  leaned  a  little  forward  in  his  place.  His 
long,  hatchet-shaped  face  was  drawn  and  white. 
His  eyes  were  full  of  a  pitiful  anxiety. 

"  They  were  talking  like  men  beside  themselves 
at  the  Clarion  and  up  at  Dale's  house  last  night,"  he 
said.  "  TKey  were  mad  about  your  having  gone  to 
Foley's.  Graveling  —  he  was  the  worst  —  he's  tell- 
ing them  all  that  you're  up  to  some  mischief  on  your 
own  account.  They  are  all  grumbling  like  a  lot  of 
sore  heads.  If  they  could  stop  your  speaking  here 
to-night,  I  believe  they  would.  They're  a  rotten  lot. 
Before  they  got  their  places  in  Parliament,  they  were 
perfect  firebrands.  Blast  them !  " 

"  And  you,  Aaron  — " 

Maraton  suddenly  paused.  The  door  was  softly 
opened,  and  Julia  stood  there.  She  was  wearing  her 
hat  and  coat,  but  her  hands  were  gloveless ;  she  had 
just  returned  from  the  street. 


I42  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Come  in,"  Maraton  invited.  "  So  you're  look- 
ing after  Aaron,  are  you?  " 

"  I  couldn't  keep  away,"  Julia  said  simply.  "  I 
thought  I'd  better  let  you  both  know  that  the  street 
below  is  filling  up.  They've  heard  that  you  are  here. 
People  were  running  away  from  before  the  Midland 
as  I  came  round  the  corner." 

Maraton  glanced  out  of  the  window.  There  was  a 
hurrying  crowd  fast  approaching  the  front  of  the 
hotel.  He  drew  back. 

"  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  asking  Aaron,"  he 
remarked,  "  exactly  what  it  is  that  is  expected  from 
me  to-night.  Tell  me  what  is  in  your  mind  ?  " 

Her  face  lit  up  as  she  looked  at  him. 

"  We  are  like  children,"  she  replied,  "  all  of  us. 
We  have  too  much  faith.  I  think  that  what  we  are 
expecting  is  a  miracle." 

"  Is  it  wise?  "  Maraton  asked  quietly.  "  Don't 
you  think  that  it  may  lead  to  disappointment  ?  " 

She  considered  the  thought  for  a  moment  and 
brushed  it  away. 

"  We  are  not  afraid,  Aaron  and  I." 

"  You  are  belligerents,  both  of  you." 

"  And  so  are  you,"  Julia  retorted  swiftly.  "  What 
was  it  you  said  in  Chicago  about  the  phrase-makers? 
—  the  Socialism  that  flourished  in  the  study  while 
women  and  children  starved  in  the  streets?  Those 
are  the  sort  of  things  that  we  remember,  Aaron 
and  I." 

"  This  is  a  country  of  slow  progress,"  Maraton 
reminded  them.  "  One  builds  stone  by  stone.  Listen 
to  me  carefully,  you  two.  Since  you  have  had  under- 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  143 

standing,  your  eyes  have  been  fixed  upon  this  one 
immense  problem.  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you 
concerning  it.  Shall  I  destroy  for  the  sake  of  the 
unborn  generations,  or  shall  I  use  all  my  cunning 
and  the  power  of  the  people  to  lead  them  a  little 
further  into  the  light  during  their  living  days? 
What  would  they  say  themselves,  do  you  think? 
Would  one  in  a  hundred  be  content  to  sacrifice  him- 
self for  a  principle?" 

"  Who  knows  that  the  millennium  would  be  so  long 
delayed? "  Julia  exclaimed.  "  A  few  years  might 
see  Society  reconstituted,  with  new  laws  and  a  new 
humanity." 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  make  any  mistake  about  that,"  he  said. 
"  If  I  press  the  levers  upon  which  to-day  my  hand 
seems  to  rest,  this  country  will  be  laid  waste  with 
famine  and  riot  and  conquest.  An  hour  ago  a  little 
man  was  here,  a  little,  black-bearded  man  with  a 
quiet  voice,  charged  with  a  great  mission.  He  came 
to  offer  me,  on  behalf  of  a  syndicate  of  foreign  manu- 
facturers, a  million  pounds  towards  our  universal 
strike." 

They  both  gasped.  The  thing  was  surely  incredi- 
ble! 

"  An  incident  like  that,"  Maraton  continued,  "  may 
show  you  what  this  country  must  lose,  for  her  rivals 
do  not  give  away  a  million  pounds  for  nothing." 

Julia's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his.  Her  face  was 
full  of  strained  anxiety. 

"  You  talk,"  she  murmured,  "  as  though  you  had 
doubts,  as  though  you  were  hesitating.  Forgive  me 


I44  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

—  we  have  waited  so  long  for  to-day  —  we  and  all 
the  others." 

"  Could  any  one,"  he  demanded,  "  stand  in  the 
position  I  stand  in  to-day  and  not  have  doubts  ?  " 

Her  eyes  flashed  at  him. 

"  Yes,"  she  cried,  "  a  prophet  could !  A  real  man 
could  —  the  man  we  thought  you  were,  could !  " 

Aaron  leaned  forward,  aghast.  His  monosyllable 
was  charged  with  terrified  reproach. 

"Julia!" 

She  turned  upon  him. 

"  You,  too !  You  weren't  at  Lyndwood,  were 
you  ?  .  .  .  Doubts !  "  she  went  on  fiercely,  her  eyes 
flashing  once  more  upon  Maraton.  "  How  can  you 
fire  their  blood  if  there  are  doubts  in  your  heart? 
So  long  these  people  have  waited.  No  wonder  their 
hearts  are  sick  and  their  brains  are  clogged,  their 
will  is  tired.  Prophet  after  prophet  they  have  fol- 
lowed blindly  through  the  wilderness.  Always  it  has 
been  the  prophet  who  has  been  caught  up  into  the 
easier  ways,  and  the  people  who  have  sunk  back  into 
misery." 

She  fell  suddenly  upon  her  knees.  Before  he 
could  stop  her,  she  was  at  his  feet,  her  face  straining 
up  to  his. 

"  Forgive  me !  "  she  cried.  "  For  the  love  of  the 
women  and  the  little  children,  don't  fail  us  now !  If 
you  don't  say  the  word  to-night,  it  will  never  be 
spoken,  never  in  your  day  nor  mine.  It  isn't  legis- 
lation they  want  any  more.  It's  revolution,  the 
cleansing  fires!  The  land  where  the  sun  shines  lies 
on  the  other  side  of  the  terrible  way.  Lead  them 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  145 

across.  Don't  try  the  devious  paths.  They  have 
filled  you  with  the  poison  of  common  sense.  It  isn't 
common  sense  that's  wanted.  It's  only  an  earth- 
quake can  bring  out  the  spirit  of  the  people  and 
make  them  see  and  hold  what  belongs  to  them." 

Maraton  lifted  her  up.  Her  body  was  quivering. 
She  lay,  for  a  moment,  passive  in  his  arms.  Then 
she  sprang  away.  She  stood  with  her  back  to  him, 
looking  out  of  the  window. 

"  The  streets  are  full  of  people,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  Their  eyes  are  all  turned  here.  Poor  people !  " 

Maraton  crossed  the  room  and  stood  by  her  side. 
He  spoke  very  gently.  He  even  took  her  hand,  which 
lay  like  a  lump  of  ice  in  his. 

"  Julia,"  he  whispered,  "  you  lose  hope  and  trust 
too  soon." 

"  You  have  spoken  of  doubts,"  she  answered,  in  a 
low  tone.  "  The  prophet  has  no  doubts." 

There  was  a  sound  of  voices  outside,  of  heavy  foot- 
steps on  the  stairs.  They  heard  Graveling's  loud, 
unpleasant  voice.  The  delegates  had  arrived! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Maraton,  with  the  peculiar  sensitiveness  of  the 
artist  to  an  altered  atmosphere,  was  keenly  conscious 
of  the  change  when  Julia  had  left  the  room  and  the 
delegates  had  entered.  One  by  one  they  shook  hands 
with  Maraton  and  took  their  places  around  the  table. 
They  had  no  appearance  of  men  charged  with  a  great 
mission.  Henneford,  who  had  met  them  at  the  sta- 
tion, was  beaming  with  hospitality.  Peter  Dale  was 
full  of  gruff  good-humour  and  jokes.  Graveling 
alone  entered  with  a  scowl  and  sat  with  folded  arms 
and  the  air  of  a  dissentient.  Borden,  who  com- 
plained of  feeling  train-sick,  insisted  upon  drinks 
being  served,  and  Culvain,  with  a  notebook  upon  his 
knee,  ostentatiously  sharpened  a  pencil.  It  was  very 
much  like  a  meeting  of  a  parish  council.  Ross  alone 
amongst  the  delegates  had  the  absorbed  air  of  a  man 
on  the  threshold  of  great  things,  and  Aaron,  from 
his  seat  behind  Maraton,  watched  his  master  all  the 
time  with  strained  and  passionate  attention. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  Peter  Dale  began,  "  we've 
no  wish  to  commence  this  meeting  with  any  unpleas- 
antness. At  the  same  time,  Mr.  Maraton,  we  did 
think  that  after  that  letter  of  ours  you'd  have  seen 
your  way  clear  to  come  up  to  London  and  cut  short 
that  visit  to  Mr.  Foley.  We  were  all  there  waiting 
for  you,  and  there  were  some  of  us  that  didn't  take  it 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  147 

altogether  in  what  I  might  call  a  favourable  spirit, 
that  you  chose  to  keep  away." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  Maraton  replied  calmly, 
"  I  did  not  see  the  faintest  reason  why  I  should 
shorten  my  visit  to  Mr.  Foley.  We  had  arranged 
to  meet  here  to-day  and  that  seemed  to  me  to  be 
quite  sufficient." 

Peter  Dale  tugged  at  his  beard  for  a  moment. 

"  I  am  not  wishful,"  he  reiterated,  "  to  commence 
a  discussion  which  might  lead  to  disagreement  between 
us.  We'll  drop  the  matter  for  the  present.  Is  that 
agreeable  to  everybody  ?  " 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  assent.  Graveling 
only  was  stolidly  silent.  Peter  Dale  struck  the  table 
with  his  fist. 

"  Now  then,  lads,"  he  said,  "  let's  get  on  with  it." 

"  This  being  mainly  my  show,"  John  Henneford 
declared,  "  I'll  come  and  sit  at  your  right  hand,  Mr. 
Maraton.  You've  got  all  the  papers  I've  sent  you 
about  the  cotton  workers  ?  " 

"  I  have  looked  them  through,"  Maraton  replied, 
"  but  most  of  their  contents  were  familiar  to  me. 
I  made  a  study  of  the  condition  of  all  your  industries 
so  far  as  I  could,  last  year." 

"  Between  you  and  me,"  Peter  Dale  grumbled, 
"  this  meeting  ought  to  have  been  held  in  Newcastle 
and  not  Manchester.  These  cotton  chaps  of  yours, 
Henneford,  ain't  doing  so  badly.  It's  my  miners 
that  want  another  leg  up." 

Henneford  struck  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"Rot!"  he  exclaimed.  "Your  miners  have  just 
had  a  turn.  Half-a-crown  a  week  extra,  and  a  mini- 


i48  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

mum  wage  —  what  more  do  you  want  ?  And  a  piece 
of  plate  and  a  nice  fat  cheque  for  Mr.  Dale/'  he 
added,  turning  to  the  others  and  winking. 

Peter  Dale  beamed  good-humouredly  upon  them. 

«'  Well,"  he  retorted,  "  I  earned  it.  You  fellows 
should  organise  in  the  same  way.  It  took  me  a  good 
many  years'  hard  work,  I  can  tell  you,  to  bring  my 
lot  up  to  the  scratch.  Anyway,  here  we  are,  and 
Manchester  it's  got  to  be  this  time.  In  an  hour, 
Mr.  Maraton,  the  secretary  of  the  Manchester 
Labour  Party  will  be  here.  He's  got  two  demand 
scales  made  out  for  you  to  look  through.  Your  job 
is  to  work  the  people  up  so  that  they  drop  their  tools 
next  Saturday  night." 

"  There  was  an  idea,"  Maraton  reminded  them 
quietly,  "  that  I  should  speak  to-night  not  only  to 
the  operatives  of  Manchester  but  to  Labour  through- 
out the  Empire ;  that  I  should  make  a  pronouncement 
which  should  have  in  it  something  of  a  common  basis 
for  all  industries  —  which  would,  in  short,  unsettle 
Labour  in  every  great  centre." 

They  all  looked  a  little  blank.  Henneford  shook 
his  head. 

"  It  can't  be  done,"  he  affirmed.  "  One  job  at  a 
time's  our  way.  You're  going  to  speak  to  cotton 
to-night,  and  we  want  the  mills  emptied  by  the  end 
of  the  week.  We've  got  a  scheme  amongst  the 
Unions,  as  you  know,  for  helping  one  another,  and 
as  soon  as  we've  finished  with  cotton,  then  we'll  go 
for  iron." 

"  That's  an  old  promise,"  Weavel  declared  sturdily. 

"What  about   the   potteries?"   Mr.   Borden    ei- 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  149 

claimed.  "  It's  six  years  since  we  had  any  sort  of 
a  dust-up,  and  my  majority  was  the  smallest  of  the 
lot  of  you,  last  election.  Something's  got  to  be  done 
down  my  way.  My  chaps  won't  go  paying  in  and 
paying  in  forever.  We've  fifty-nine  thousand 
pounds  waiting,  and  the  condition  of  our  girl  labour 
is  beastly." 

"  Iron  comes  next,"  Weavel  persisted  stolidly. 
"  That's  been  settled  amongst  ourselves.  And  as 
for  your  fifty-nine  thousand,  Borden,  what  about 
our  hundred  and  thirty  thousand?  We  shall  all 
have  to  be  lending  up  here,  too,  to  work  this  thing 
properly." 

"  Let's  get  on,"  Peter  Dale  proposed,  rapping  on 
the  table.  "  Now  listen  here,  all  of  you.  What  I 
propose  is,  if  we're  satisfied  with  Mr.  Maraton's  ad- 
dress to-night,  as  I've  no  doubt  we  shall  be,"  he 
added,  bowing  to  Maraton  with  clumsy  politeness, 
"  that  we  appoint  him  kind  of  lecturer  to  the  Unions, 
and  we  make  out  a  sort  of  itinerary  for  him,  to  kind 
of  pave  the  way,  and  then  he  gives  one  of  these  Chi- 
cago orations  of  his  at  the  last  moment  in  each  of 
the  principal  centres.  We'd  fix  a  salary  —  no  need 
to  be  mean  about  it  —  and  get  to  work  as  soon  as 
this  affair's  over.  And  meanwhile,  while  this  strike's 
on,  Mr.  Maraton  might  address  a  few  meetings  in 
other  centres  on  behalf  of  these  fellows,  and  rope  in 
some  coin.  There  are  one  or  two  matters  we  shall 
have  to  have  an  understanding  about,  however,  and 
one  as  had  better  be  cleared  up  right  now.  I'll  ask 
you,  Mr.  Maraton,  to  explain  to  us  just  what  you 
meant  down  at  the  Clarion  the  other  night?  We 


i5o  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

weren't  expecting  you  there  and  you  rather  took  us 
aback,  and  we  didn't  find  what  you  said  altogether 
helpful  or  particularly  lucid.  Now  what's  this  busi- 
ness about  a  universal  strike  ?  " 

Maraton  sat  for  a  moment  almost  silent.  He 
looked  down  the  table,  along  the  line  of  faces,  coarse 
faces  most  of  them,  of  varying  strength,  plebeian, 
forceful  here  and  there,  with  one  almost  common 
quality  of  stubbornness.  They  were  men  of  the  peo- 
ple, all  of  them,  men  of  the  narrow  ways.  What 
words  of  his  could  take  them  into  the  further  land? 
He  raised  his  head.  He  felt  curiously  depressed, 
immeasurably  out  of  touch  with  these  who  should 
have  been  his  helpmates.  The  sight  of  Julia  just 
then  would  have  been  a  joy  to  him. 

"  Perhaps,"  Maraton  began,  with  a  little  sigh,  "  I 
had  better  first  explain  my  own  position.  You  are 
each  of  you  Members  of  Parliament  for  a  particular 
district.  The  interests  of  each  of  you  are  bound 
up  in  the  welfare  of  the  operatives  who  send  you  to 
Parliament.  It's  your  job  to  look  after  them,  and 
I've  no  doubt  you  do  it  well.  Only,  you  see,  it's  a 
piecemeal  sort  of  business  to  call  yourselves  the  rep- 
resentatives of  Labour  in  its  broadest  sense.  I  be- 
long more,  I  am  afraid,  to  the  school  of  theorists. 
In  rey  mind  I  bring  all  Labour  together,  all  the  toilers 
of  the  world  who  are  slaves  to  the  great  Moloch, 
Capital.  You  have  an  immense  middle  class  here  in 
England,  who  are  living  in  fatness  and  content.  The 
keynote  of  my  creed  is  that  these  people  have  twice 
the  incomes  they  ought  to  have,  and  Labour  half 
as  much.  That,  of  course,  is  just  the  simple,  old- 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  151 

fashioned,  illogical  Socialism  with  which  you  prob- 
ably all  started  life,  and  which  doubtless  lies  in 
some  forgotten  chamber  of  the  minds  of  all  of  you. 
You've  given  it  up  because  you've  decided  that  it  was 
unpractical.  I  haven't.  I  believe  that  if  we  were 
to  pull  down  the  pillars  which  hold  up  the  greatness 
of  this  nation,  I  believe  that  if  we  were  to  lay  her 
in  ruins  about  us,  that  in  the  years  to  come  —  per- 
haps I  ought  to  say  the  generations  to  come  —  the 
rebuilding,  stone  by  stone,  would  be  on  the  sane 
principle  which,  once  established,  would  last  for 
eternity,  of  an  absolute  partnership  between  Capital 
and  Labour,  a  partnership  which  I  say  would  be 
eternal  because,  in  course  of  time,  the  two  would 
become  one." 

They  all  looked  at  one  another  a  little  blankly. 
Peter  Dale  grunted  with  expressionless  face  and  relit 
his  pipe,  which  had  gone  out  during  these  few  mo- 
ments of  intense  listening.  Graveling  reached  out  his 
hand  and  took  a  cigar  from  a  box  which  had  been 
placed  upon  the  table.  Henneford  and  his  neigh- 
bour exchanged  glances,  which  culminated  in  a 
stealthy  wink.  Alone  at  the  table  David  Ross  sat 
like  a  figure  of  stone,  his  mouth  a  little  open,  some- 
thing of  the  light  in  his  face. 

"  I'm  too  much  of  an  Englishman,  for  one," 
Graveling  said,  "  to  want  to  pull  the  country  down. 
Now  where  does  this  universal  strike  come  in?  " 

"  The  universal  strike,"  Maraton  explained  quietly, 
"  is  the  doctrine  I  came  to  England  to  preach.  It 
is  the  doctrine  I  meant  to  preach  to-night.  If  your 
coal  strike  and  your  iron  strike  and  your  railway 


152  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

strike  were  declared  within  the  next  few  days,  the 
pillars  would  indeed  be  pulled  down." 

"  Why,  I  should  say  so ! "  Peter  Dale  declared 
gruffly.  "  Half  the  people  in  the  country  would  be 
starving ;  there'd  be  no  subscriptions  to  the  Unions ; 
the  blooming  Germans  would  be  over  here  in  no  time, 
and  we  should  lose  our  jobs." 

"  It  wouldn't  do,  Mr.  Maraton,"  Borden  said 
briskly.  "  It's  our  job  to  improve  the  position  of  our 
constituents,  but  it's  jolly  certain  we  shouldn't  do 
that  by  bringing  ruin  upon  the  country." 

David  Ross  suddenly  struck  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"  You  are  wrong,  all  of  you,"  he  cried  hoarsely. 
"  You  are  ignorant  men,  thick-headed,  fat,  narrow 
fools,  full  of  self-interest  and  prejudice.  You  want 
your  jobs;  they  come  first.  I  tell  you  that  the 
man's  right.  Purge  the  country ;  get  rid  of  the  poi- 
son of  ill-distributed  capital,  start  again  a  new  nation 
and  a  new  morning." 

Dale  looked  across  the  table,  pityingly. 

"  What  you  need,  Ross,  is  a  drink,"  he  remarked. 
*'  I  noticed  you  weren't  doing  yourself  very  well  com- 
ing down." 

David  Ross  rose  heavily  to  his  feet.  His  arm  was 
stretched  out  towards  Dale  and  it  was  the  arm  of  an 
accuser. 

"  Doing  myself  well ! "  he  repeated,  with  fierce 
contempt.  "  That's  the  keynote  of  your  lives,  you 
lazy,  self-satisfied  swine,  who  call  yourselves  people's 
men !  What  do  you  know  or  care  about  the  people  ? 
How  many  of  you  have  walked  by  day  and  night  in 
the  wilderness  and  felt  your  heart  die  away  within 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  153 

you?  How  many  of  you  have  watched  the  people 
hour  by  hour  —  the  broken  people,  the  vicious  peo- 
ple, the  cripples,  the  white  slaves  of  crueller  days 
than  the  most  barbarous  countries  in  history  have 
ever  permitted  to  their  children?  You  understand 
your  jobs,  and  you  do  yourselves  well;  that's  your 
motto  and  your  epitaph.  There's  only  one  amongst 
you  who's  a  people's  man  and  that's  him." 

He  pointed  to  Maraton  and  sat  down.  Peter  Dale 
removed  his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

"  It's  just  as  well,  David  Ross,  for  you  to  remem- 
ber," he  said  gruffly,  "  that  you're  here  on  sufferance. 
Seems  to  me  there's  a  bit  of  the  dog  in  the  manger 
about  your  whining.  I  don't  know  as  it  matters 
to  any  one  particularly  what  your  opinion  is,  but  if 
you  expect  to  be  taken  in  along  of  us,  you'll  have 
to  alter  your  style  a  bit.  It's  all  very  well  for  the 
platform,  but  it  don't  go  down  here.  Now,  lads, 
let's  get  on  with  business.  What  I  say  is  this.  If 
Mr.  Maraton  is  going  on  the  platform  to-night  to 
talk  anarchy,  why  then  we'd  best  stop  it.  We  want 
subscriptions,  we  want  the  sympathy  of  the  British 
public  in  this  strike,  and  there's  nothing  would  make 
them  button  up  their  pockets  quicker  than  for  Mr. 
Maraton  there  to  go  and  talk  about  bringing  ruin 
upon  the  Empire  for  the  sake  of  the  people  who  ain't 
born  yet.  That's  what  I  call  thinking  in  the  clouds. 
There's  nowt  of  good  in  it  for  us,"  he  added,  with 
a  momentary  and  vigorous  return  into  his  own  ver- 
nacular. "  Get  it  out  of  thy  head,  lad,  or  pack 
thy  bag  and  get  thee  back  to  America." 

There  was  a  brief  silence.     Most  of  those  present 


i54  A   PEOPLE'S    MAN 

had  drawn  a  little  sigh  of  relief.  It  was  obvious 
that  they  were  entirely  in  agreement  with  Dais.  Only 
Ross  was  leaning  across  the  table,  his  eyes  blinking, 
drumming  upon  the  tablecloth  with  the  palm  of  his 
hand. 

"  That's  right,"  he  muttered,  "  that's  right.  Send 
him  away,  the  only  one  who  sees  the  truth.  Send  him 
away.  It's  dangerous ;  you  might  lose  your  jobs !  " 

Then  Maraton  spoke  quietly  from  his  place. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  gather  one  thing,  at 
least,  from  our  brief  conference.  You  are  not  ex- 
tremists. I  will  bear  that  in  mind.  But  as  to  what 
I  may  or  may  not  say  to-night,  I  make  no  promises." 

"  If  you're  not  going  to  support  the  strike,"  Peter 
Dale  declared  sturdily,  "  then  thou  shalt  never  set 
foot  upon  the  platform.  We've  had  our  fears  that 
this  might  be  the  result  of  your  spending  the  week- 
end with  Mr.  Foley.  There's  six  of  us  here,  all 
accredited  representatives  of  great  industrial  centres, 
and  he's  never  thought  fit  to  ask  one  of  us  to  set  foot 
under  his  roof.  Never  mind  that.  We,  perhaps," 
he  added,  with  a  slow  glance  at  Maraton,  **  haven't 
learnt  the  knack  of  wearing  our  Sunday  coats.  But 
just  you  listen.  If  Mr.  Foley 's  been  getting  at  you 
about  this  cotton  strike,  and  you  mean  to  throw  cold 
water  upon  it  to-night,  then  I  tell  ye  that  you're  out 
for  trouble.  These  Lancashire  lads  don't  stick  at  a 
bit.  They'll  pull  you  limb  from  limb  if  you  give 
them  any  of  Mr.  Foley's  soft  sawder.  We're  out 
to  fight  —  in  our  own  way,  perhaps,  but  to  fight." 

"  It  is  true  that  I  have  spent  the  week-end  with 
Mr.  Foley,"  Maraton  admitted.  "  I  had  thought, 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  155 

perhaps,  to  have  reported  to  you  to-day  the  substance 
of  our  conversation.  I  feel  now,  though,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  that  it  would  be  useless.  You  call  your- 
selves Labour  Members,  and  in  your  way  you  are 
no  doubt  excellent  machines.  I,  too,  call  myself  a 
Labour  man,  but  we  stand  far  apart  in  our  ideas,  in 
our  methods.  I  think,  Mr.  Peter  Dale  and  gentle- 
men, that  we  will  go  our  own  ways.  We  will  fight 
for  the  people  as  seems  best  to  us.  I  do  not  think 
that  an  alliance  is  possible." 

They  stared  at  him,  a  little  amazed. 

"  Look  here,  young  man,"  Peter  Dale  expostulated, 
"  what's  it  all  about?  What  do  you  want  from  us? 
I  spoke  of  a  job  as  lecturer  just  now.  If  you've 
really  got  the  gift  of  speaking  that  they  say  you 
have,  that'll  bring  you  into  Parliament  in  time,  and 
I  reckon  you'll  settle  down  fast  enough  with  the  rest 
of  us  then.  Until  then,  what  is  it  you  want?  We 
are  sensible  men.  We  all  know  you  can't  go  spouting 
round  the  country  for  nothing,  whether  it's  for  the 
people,  or  woman's  suffrage,  or  any  old  game.  Open 
your  mouth  and  let's  hear  what  you  have  to  say." 

Maraton  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  I  will,  perhaps,"  he  said,  "  come  to  you  with  an 
offer  a  little  later  on.  For  the  present  I  must  be 
excused.  I  have  an  appointment  which  Mr.  Hen- 
neford  has  arranged  for  me  with  Mr.  Preston, 
Secretary  of  the  Union  here.  There  are  a  good 
many  facts  I  need  to  make  sure  of  before  to-night." 

Mr.  Dale  moved  his  pipe  to  the  other  side  of  his 
mouth. 

"  That's  all  very  well  for  a  tale,"  he  muttered, 


156  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  but  I'm  not  so  sure  about  letting  you  go  on  to 
the  platform  at  all  to-night.  We  don't  want  our 
people  fed  up  with  the  wrong  sort  of  stuff." 

Maraton  smiled. 

"  Mr.  Dale,"  he  begged  quietly,  "  listen." 

They  were  all,  for  a  moment,  silent.  Maraton 
opened  the  window.  From  outside  came  a  low  roar 
of  voices  from  the  packed  crowds  who  were  even  now 
blocking  the  street. 

"  These  are  my  masters,  Mr.  Dale,"  Maraton  said, 
"  and  I  don't  think  there's  any  power  you  or  your 
friends  could  make  use  of  to-night,  which  will  keep 
me  from  my  appointment  with  them." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

In  the  roar  of  applause  which  followed  Maraton's 
brilliant  but  wholly  unprepared  peroration,  a  roar 
which  broke  and  swelled  like  the  waves  of  the  sea, 
different  people  upon  the  platform  heard  different 
things.  Peter  Dale  and  his  little  band  of  coadjutors 
were  men  enough  to  know  that  a  new  force  had  come 
amongst  them.  It  is  possible,  even,  that  they, 
hardened  as  they  were  by  time  and  circumstances, 
felt  some  thrill  of  that  erstwhile  enthusiasm  which  in 
their  younger  days  had  brought  them  out  from  the 
ranks  of  their  fellows.  To  Aaron,  listening  with 
quivering  attention  to  every  sentence,  it  seemed  like 
the  consummation  of  all  his  dreams.  Julia  alone  was 
conscious  of  a  certain  restraint,  knew  that  behind 
all  the  deep  feeling  and  splendid  hopefulness  of  Mara- 
ton's  words,  there  was  a  sense  of  something  kept 
back.  It  wasn't  what  he  had  meant  to  say.  Some- 
thing had  come  between  Maraton  and  his  passionate 
dreams  of  freedom.  He,  too,  had  become  a  particu- 
larist.  He,  too,  was  content  to  preach  salvation 
piecemeal.  He  had  spoken  to  them  at  first  simply, 
as  one  worker  to  another.  Then  he  had  drifted  out 
into  the  larger  sea,  and  for  those  few  moments  he 
had  been,  at  any  rate,  vigorously  in  earnest  as  he 
had  attacked  with  scorpion-like  bitterness  the  hideous 
disproportions  which  existed  between  the  capitalised 


I58  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

corporation  and  the  labour  which  supported  it.  Yet 
afterwards  he  had  gone  back  within  himself.  Almost 
she  had  expected  to  see  him  with  his  hands  upraised, 
bidding  them  tear  down  these  barriers  for  themselves. 
Instead  he  showed  them  the  legalised  way,  not  to  free 
humanity,  but  to  ensure  for  themselves  a  more  com- 
fortable place  in  life.  It  was  all  very  magnificent. 
The  strike  was  assured  now,  almost  the  success  of  it. 

It  was  long  before  they  let  him  leave  the  platform. 
In  the  droning  impotence  of  the  men  who  followed 
him,  the  vast  audience  seemed  to  realise  once  more  the 
splendid  perfection  of  his  wholly  natural  and  inspir- 
ing oratory.  They  rose  and  shouted  for  him,  and 
once  again,  as  he  said  a  few  words,  the  spell  of  silence 
lay  upon  them.  Julia  sat  telling  herself  passion- 
ately that  all  was  well,  that  nothing  more  than  this 
was  to  have  been  hoped  for,  that  indeed  the  liberator 
had  come.  More  than  once  she  felt  Aaron's  hands 
gripping  her  arm,  as  Maraton's  words  seemed  to 
cleave  a  way  towards  the  splendid  truth.  Ross,  on 
her  other  side,  was  like  a  man  carried  into  another 
world. 

"  It  is  the  Messiah,"  he  muttered,  "  the  Messiah 
of  suffering  men  and  women!  No  longer  will  they 
cry  aloud  for  bread  and  be  given  stones." 

Everything  that  happened  afterwards  seemed,  in 
a  way,  commonplace.  When  at  last  they  succeeded  in 
leaving  the  platform,  they  had  to  wait  for  a  long  time 
in  an  anteroom  while  some  portion  of  the  immense 
crowd  dispersed.  Peter  Dale,  as  soon  as  he  had  lit 
his  pipe,  came  up  to  Maraton  and  patted  him  on  the 
shoulder. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  159 

"  There's  no  doubt  about  thy  gift,  lad,"  he  said 
condescendingly.  "  A  man  who  can  talk  as  you 
do  has  no  need  to  look  elsewhere  for  a  living." 

"  Gave  it  to  'em  straight,"  Mr.  Weavel  assented, 
'*  and  what  I  propose  is  a  meeting  at  Sheffield  —  say 
this  day  month  —  and  an  appeal  to  the  ironf ounders. 
It's  all  very  well,  Borden,"  he  went  on,  a  little  angrily, 
"  but  my  people  are  looking  for  something  from  me, 
in  return  for  their  cash.  What  with  these  strikes 
here  and  strikes  there,  and  a  bit  out  of  it  for  every- 
body, why,  it's  time  Sheffield  spoke." 

"  There's  a  question  I  should  like  to  ask,"  Gravel- 
ing intervened,  plunging  into  the  discussion,  "  and 
that  is,  why  are  you  so  cocksure,  Mr.  Maraton,  of 
Government  support  in  favour  of  the  men?  You 
said  in  your  speech  to-night,  so  far  as  I  remember, 
that  if  the  masters  wouldn't  give  in  without,  Govern- 
ment must  force  them  to  see  the  rights  of  the  matter. 
And  not  only  that,  but  Government  should  compel 
them  to  recognise  the  Union  and  to  deal  with  it. 
Now  you've  only  been  in  this  country  a  few  days, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  you  were  talking  on  a  pretty 
tall  order." 

"  Not  at  all,"  Maraton  replied.  "  I  have  a  scheme 
of  my  own,  scarcely  developed  as  yet,  a  scheme  which 
I  wasn't  sure,  when  I  came  here,  that  I  should  ever 
make  use  of,  which  justified  me  in  saying  what  I 
did." 

They  looked  at  him  jealously. 

"  Is  it  an  arrangement  with  Mr.  Foley  that  you're 
speaking  of?  "  Peter  Dale  enquired. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  Maraton  assented. 


i6o  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  Maraton  was  leaning 
slightly  against  a  table.  Julia  was  talking  to  the 
wife  of  one  of  the  delegates,  a  little  way  off.  The 
others  were  all  spread  around,  smoking  and  helping 
themselves  to  drinks  which  had  just  been  brought  in. 
Graveling's  face  was  dark  and  angry. 

"  Are  we  to  gather,"  he  demanded,  "  that  there's 
some  sort  of  an  understanding  between  you  and  Mr. 
Foley?" 

"  If  there  is,"  Maraton  asked  easily,  "  to  whom 
am  I  responsible  ?  " 

There  was  a  silence,  brief  but  intense.  Julia  had 
turned  her  head;  the  others,  too,  were  listening. 
Peter  Dale  was  blowing  tobacco  smoke  from  his 
mouth,  Borden  was  breathing  heavily.  Graveling's 
small  eyes  were  bright  with  anger  and  distrust.  They 
were  all  of  them  realising  the  presence  of  a  new 
force  which  had  come  amongst  them,  and  already, 
with  the  immeasurable  selfishness  of  their  class,  they 
were  speculating  as  to  its  personal  effect  upon  them- 
selves. Peter  Dale,  with  his  hands  in  his  trousers 
pockets,  and  his  pipe  between  his  teeth,  elbowed  his 
way  to  Maraton's  side. 

"  Young  man,"  he  began  solemnly,  "  we'd  best 
have  an  understanding.  Ask  any  of  these  others  and 
they'll  tell  you  I'm  the  leader  of  the  Labour  Party. 
Are  you  one  of  us  or  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  One  of  you,  in  a  sense,  I  hope,  Mr.  Dale,"  Mara- 
ton answered  simply.  "  Only  you  must  put  me  down 
as  an  Independent.  I  don't  understand  conditions 
over  here  yet.  Where  my  own  way  seems  best,  I  am 
used  to  following  it." 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  i6r 

Peter  Dale  removed  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and 
spoke  with  added  distinctness. 

"  Politics  over  here,"  he  said,  "  are  a  simpler  game 
than  in  the  States,  but  there's  one  class  of  person 
we've  got  to  do  without,  and  that's  the  Independent 
Member.  You  can't  do  anything  over  here  except 
by  sticking  together.  If  you'll  come  under  the 
standard,  you're  welcome.  I'll  say  nothing  about 
Parliament  for  a  time,  but  we'll  find  you  all  the  talk- 
ing you  want  and  see  that  you're  well  paid  for  it." 

Looking  past  the  speaker's  hard,  earnest  face, 
Maraton  was  conscious  of  the  scorn  flashing  in  Julia's 
eyes.  Intuitively  he  felt  her  appreciation  of  the 
coarse  selfishness  of  these  men,  terrified  at  his  gifts, 
resisting  stubbornly  the  unwelcome  conviction  of  a 
new  mastership.  Her  lips  even  moved,  as  though, 
she  were  signalling  to  him.  At  that  moment,  indeed,, 
he  would  have  been  glad  of  her  guidance.  He  needed 
the  machinery  which  these  men  controlled,  distasteful 
though  their  ideals  and  methods  might  be  to  him. 

"  Mr.  Dale,"  he  declared,  "  I  am  a  people's  man. 
I  cannot  enroll  myself  in  your  party  because  I  fancy 
that  in  many  ways  we  should  think  differently.  But 
with  so  many  objects  in  common,  it  is  surely  possible 
for  us  to  be  friends  ?  " 

Ross  leaned  suddenly  forward  in  his  chair,  his 
grey  face  passion-stirred,  the  sweat  upon  his  fore- 
head. 

"  Aye !  "  he  cried,  "  it's  the  greatest  friend  or  the 
bitterest  enemy  of  the  people  you'll  be.  You'll  da 
more  with  that  tongue  of  yours  than  a  library  of 
books  or  a  century  of  Parliament,  and  may  it  wither 


162  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

in  your  mouth  if  they  buy  you  —  those  others !  God 
meant  you  for  a  people's  man.  It'll  be  hell  for  you 
and  for  us  if  they  buy  you  away." 

Maraton  changed  his  position  a  little.  He  was 
facing  them  all  now. 

"  My  friends,"  he  said,  "  that  is  one  thing  of 
which  you  need  have  no  fear.  Our  methods  may  be 
different,  we  may  work  in  different  ways,  but  we 
shall  work  towards  the  same  goal.  Remember  this, 
and  remember  always  that  whether  we  fight  under 
the  same  banner  or  not,  I  have  told  it  to  you  solemnly 
and  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  I  am  a  people's 
man!" 

He  turned  towards  the  door  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
Aaron's  shoulder.  Julia,  too,  rose  and  followed  him. 

"  I  think,"  he  added,  "  that  the  people  will  have 
cleared  off  by  now.  I  am  going  to  try  and  get  back 
to  the  hotel.  I  have  messages  to  send  away,  and  an 
early  train  to  catch  in  the  morning." 

They  were  passing  out  of  the  room  almost  in 
silence,  but  Henneford  struck  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"  Come,"  he  exclaimed,  "  we  seem  in  a  queer 
humour  to-night !  Don't  let  Mr.  Maraton  think  too 
hardly  of  us.  Wherever  his  place  may  be  in  the 
future,  he's  done  us  a  grand  service  to-night,  and 
don't  let's  forget  it.  He's  waked  these  people  up 
as  none  other  of  us  could  have  done.  He's  started 
this  strike  in  such  a  fashion  as  none  other  of  us 
could.  Don't  let's  forget  to  be  grateful.  The  edu- 
cation and  the  oratory  isn't  all  on  the  other  side 
now.  If  we  don't  see  you  again  to-night,  Mr.  Mara- 
ton, or  before  you  leave  for  London,  here's  my^ 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  163 

thanks,  for  one,  for  to-night's  work,  and  I'll  lay 
odds  that  the  others  are  with  me." 

They  crowded  around  him  after  that,  and  though 
Graveling  stood  on  one  side  and  Peter  Dale  still  main- 
tained his  attitude  of  doubt,  they  all  parted  cordially 
enough.  They  reached  the  back  door  of  the  hall 
and  found  the  shelter  of  a  four-wheeled  cab.  Before 
they  could  start,  however,  they  were  discovered. 
People  came  running  from  all  directions.  Looking 
through  the  window,  they  could  see  nothing  but  a 
sea  of  white  faces.  The  crazy  vehicle  rocked  from 
side  to  side.  The  driver  was  lifted  from  his  seat, 
the  horse  unharnessed.  Slowly,  and  surrounded  by 
a  cheering  multitude,  they  dragged  the  cab  through 
the  streets.  Julia,  sitting  by  Maraton's  side,  felt 
herself  impelled  to  hold  on  to  his  arm.  Her  body, 
her  every  sense  was  thrilled  with  the  hoarse,  dra- 
matic roll  of  their  voices,  the  forest  of  upraised 
caps,  the  strange  calm  of  the  man,  who  glanced  some- 
times almost  sadly  from  side  to  side.  She  clutched 
at  him  once  passionately. 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful !  "  she  murmured.  "  All  the 
time  they  call  to  you  —  their  liberator !  " 

He  smiled,  and  there  was  a  shadow  still  of  sadness 
in  his  eyes. 

"  It  is  a  moment's  frenzy,"  he  said.  "  They  have 
seen  a  gleam  of  the  truth.  When  the  light  goes  out, 
the  old  burden  will  seem  all  the  heavier.  It  is  so 
little  that  man  can  do  for  them." 

They  had  flung  open  the  top  of  the  cab,  and  Mara- 
ton's  eyes  were  fixed  far  ahead  at  the  dull  glow 
which  hung  over  the  city,  the  haze  of  smoke  and 


164  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

heat,  stretching  like  a  sulphurous  pall  southwards. 
The  roar  of  voices  was  always  in  his  ears,  but  for 
a  moment  his  thoughts  seemed  to  have  passed  away, 
his  eyes  seemed  to  be  seeking  for  some  message  beyond 
the  clouds.  He  alone  knew  the  full  meaning  of  the 
hour  which  had  passed. 

They  were  sitting  alone  in  the  library,  the  French 
windows  wide  open,  the  languorous  night  air  heavy 
with  the  perfume  of  roses  and  the  sweetness  of  the 
cedars,  drawn  out  by  the  long  day's  sunshine.  Mr. 
Foley  was  sitting  with  folded  arms,  silent  and  pensive 
—  a  man  waiting.  And  by  his  side  was  Elisabeth, 
standing  for  a  moment  with  her  fingers  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  Is  that  eleven  o'clock? J>  she  asked. 

"  A  quarter  past,"  he  answered.  "  We  shall  hear 
in  a  few  minutes  now." 

She  moved  restlessly  away.  There  was  something 
spectral  about  her  in  her  light  muslin  frock,  as  she 
vanished  through  the  windows  and  reappeared  almost 
immediately,  threading  her  way  amongst  the  flower 
beds.  Suddenly  the  telephone  bell  at  Mr.  Foley's 
elbow  rang.  He  raised  the  receiver.  She  came 
swiftly  to  his  side. 

"Manchester?"  she  heard  him  say.  .  .  .  "Yes, 
this  is  Lyndwood  Park.  It  is  Mr.  Foley  speaking. 
Go  on." 

There  was  silence  then.  Elisabeth  stood  with 
parted  lips  and  luminous  eyes,  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder.  She  watched  him, —  watched  the  slow 
movement  of  his  head,  the  relaxing  of  his  hard,  thin 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  165 

lips,  the  flash  in  his  eyes.  She  knew  —  from  the 
first  she  knew! 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  and  good  night,"  Mr. 
Foley  said,  as  he  replaced  the  receiver. 

Then  he  turned  quickly  to  Elisabeth  and  caught 
her  hand. 

"  They  say  that  Maraton's  speech  was  wonderful," 
he  announced.  "  He  declared  war,  but  a  man's  war. 
Cotton  first,  and  cotton  alone." 

She  gave  a  little  sobbing  breath.  Her  hands  were 
locked  together. 

"  England  will  never  know,"  Mr.  Foley  added,  in 
a  voice  still  trembling  with  emotion,  "  what  she  has 
escaped  1 " 


CHAPTER  XVIU 

Those  wonderful  few  days  at  Manchester  had 
passed,  and  oppressed  by  the  inevitable  reaction, 
Julia  was  back  at  work  in  the  clothing  factory. 

She  had  given  up  her  place  by  the  window  to  an 
anasmic-looking  child  of  seventeen,  who  had  a  habit 
of  fainting  during  these  long,  summer  afternoons. 
Her  own  fingers  were  weary  and  she  was  conscious 
of  an  increasing  fatigue  as  the  hours  of  toil  passed 
on.  No  breath  of  air  came  in  from  the  sun-baked 
streets  through  the  wide-flung  windows.  The  atmos- 
phere of  the  long,  low  room,  in  which  over  a  hundred 
girls  closely  huddled  together,  were  working,  was 
sickly  with  the  smell  of  cloth.  There  was  no  con- 
versation. The  click  of  the  machines  seemed  some- 
times to  her  partially  dulled  senses  like  the  beating 
out  of  their  human  lives.  It  seemed  impossible  that 
the  afternoon  would  ever  end.  The  interval  for  tea 
came  and  passed  —  tea  in  tin  cans,  with  thick  bread 
and  melting  butter.  The  respite  was  worse  almost 
than  the  mechanical  toil.  Julia's  eyes  ranged  over 
the  housetops,  westwards.  There  was  another  world 
of  trees,  flowers,  and  breezes;  another  world  alto- 
gether. She  set  her  teeth.  It  was  hard  to  have 
no  place  in  it.  A  little  time  ago  she  had  been  con- 
tent, content  even  to  suffer,  because  she  was  toiling 
with  these  others  whom  she  loved,  and  for  whom,  in 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  167 

her  profound  pity,  she  poured  out  her  life  and  her 
talents.  And  now  there  was  a  change.  Was  it  the 
spell  of  this  cruel  summer,  she  wondered,  or  was  it 
something  else  —  some  new  desire  in  her  incomplete 
life,  something  from  which  for  so  many  years  she 
had  been  free?  She  let  her  thoughts,  momentarily^ 
go  adrift.  She  was  back  again  in  the  cab,  her  fingers 
clutching  his  arm,  her  heart  thrilling  with  the  won- 
derful passionate  splendour  of  those  few  hours.  She 
recalled  his  looks,  his  words,  his  little  acts  of  kind- 
ness. She  realised  in  those  few  moments  how  com- 
pletely he  filled  her  thoughts.  She  began  to  tremble. 

"  Better  have  your  place  by  the  window  back 
again,  Miss  Thurnbrein,"  the  girl  at  her  side  said 
suddenly.  "  You're  looking  like  Clara,  just  before 
she  popped  off.  My,  ain't  it  awful !  " 

Julia  came  back  to  herself  and  refused  the  child's 
offer. 

"  I  shall  be  all  right  directly,"  she  declared. 
"  This  weather  can't  last  much  longer." 

"  If  only  the  storm  would  come ! "  the  child  mut- 
tered, as  she  turned  back  to  her  work. 

If  only  the  storm  would  come!  Julia  seemed  to 
take  these  words  with  her  as  she  passed  at  last  into 
the  streets,  at  the  stroke  of  the  hour.  It  was  like 
that  with  her,  too.  There  was  something  inside, 
something  around  her  heart,  which  was  robbing  her 
of  her  rest,  haunting  her  through  the  long,  lonely 
nights,  torturing  her  through  these  miserable  days. 
Soon  she  would  have  to  turn  and  face  it.  She  shiv- 
ered with  fear  at  the  thought. 

In  the  street  a  man  accosted  her.     She  looked  up 


168  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

with  an  almost  guilty  start.  A  little  cry  broke  from 
her  lips.  It  was  one  of  disappointment,  and  Gravel- 
ing's  unpleasant  lips  were  twisted  into  a  sneer  as  he 
raised  his  cap. 

"  Thought  it  was  some  one  else,  eh?  "  he  remarked. 
"  Well,  it  isn't,  you  see ;  it's  me.  There's  no  one 
else  with  a  mind  to  come  down  here  this  baking  after- 
noon to  fetch  you." 

"  I  thought  it  might  be  Aaron,"  she  faltered. 

"  Never  mind  whom  you  thought  it  might  have 
Jbeen,"  he  answered  gruffly.  "  Aaron's  busy,  I  expect, 
typing  letters  to  all  the  lords  and  ladies  your  Mr. 
Maraton  hobnobs  with.  I'm  here,  and  I  want  to 
talk  with  you." 

"  I  am  too  tired,"  she  pleaded.  "  I  am  going 
straight  home  to  lie  down." 

"  I'd  thought  of  that,"  he  answered  stubbornly. 
"  I've  got  a  taxicab  waiting  at  the  corner.  Not 
often  I  treat  myself  to  anything  of  that  sort.  I'm 
going  to  take  you  up  to  one  of  those  parks  in  the 
West  End  we've  paid  so  much  for  and  see  so  little 
of,  and  when  I  get  you  there  I'm  going  to  talk  to 
you.  You  can  rest  on  the  way  up.  There's  a  breeze 
blowing  when  you  get  out  of  these  infernally  hot 
streets." 

She  was  only  too  glad  to  sink  back  amongst  the 
hard,  shiny  leather  cushions  of  the  taxicab,  and  half 
close  her  eyes.  The  first  taste  of  the  breeze,  as  they 
neared  Westminster  Bridge,  was  almost  ecstatic. 
Graveling  had  lit  a  pipe,  and  smoked  by  her  side  in 
silence. 

"  We  are  coming  out  of  our  bit  of  the  earth  now, 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  169 

to  theirs,"  he  remarked  presently,  as  they  reached 
Piccadilly,  brilliant  with  muslin-clad  women  and 
flower-hung  windows.  "  It  isn't  often  I  dare  trust 
myself  up  here.  Makes  me  feel  as  though  I'd  like  to 
go  amongst  those  sauntering  swells  and  mincing 
ladies  in  their  muslins  and  laces,  and  parasols,  and 
run  amuck  amongst  them  —  send  them  down  like  a 
pack  of  ninepins.  Aye,  I'd  send  them  into  hell  if 
I  could!" 

She  was  still  silent.  She  felt  that  she  needed  all 
her  strength.  They  drove  on  to  the  Achilles  statue, 
where  he  dismissed  the  taxicab.  The  man  stared  at 
the  coin  which  he  was  offered,  and  looked  at  the 
register. 

"  'Ere !  "  he  exclaimed.     "  You're  a  nice  *un,  you 


are: 


t  >» 


Graveling  turned  upon  him  almost  fiercely. 

"  If  you  want  a  tip,"  he  said,  "  go  and  drive  some 
of  these  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  about,  who've  got 
the  money  to  give.  I'm  a  working  man,  and  luxuries 
aren't  for  me.  Be  off  with  you,  or  I'll  call  a  police- 
man!" 

He  shouldered  his  way  across  the  pavement,  and 
Julia  followed  him.  Soon  they  found  a  seat  in  the 
shade  of  the  trees.  She  leaned  back  with  a  little  sigh 
of  content. 

"  Five  minutes ! "  she  begged.  "  Just  five  mi- 
nutes ! " 

He  glanced  at  his  watch,  relit  his  pipe,  and  relapsed 
once  more  into  sombre  silence.  Julia's  thoughts 
went  flitting  away.  She  closed  her  eyes  and  leaned 
back.  She  had  only  one  fear  now.  Would  he  find 


170  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

out!  He  was  thick  enough,  in  his  way,  but  he  was 
no  fool,  and  he  was  already  coarsely  jealous. 

"  Ten  minutes  you've  had,"  he  announced  at  last. 
"  Look  here,  Julia,  I've  brought  you  out  to  ask  you 
a  plain  question.  Are  you  going  to  marry  me  or  are 
you  not?  " 

"  I  am  not,"  she  answered  steadily. 

He  had  been  so  certain  of  her  reply  that  his  face 
betrayed  no  disappointment.  Only  he  turned  a  little 
in  his  chair  so  that  he  could  watch  her  face.  She 
was  conscious  of  the  cruelty  of  his  action. 

"  Then  I  want  to  know  what  you  are  going  to  do," 
he  continued.  "  You  are  thin  and  white  and  worn 
out.  You're  fit  for  something  better  than  a  tailoress 
and  you  know  it.  And  you're  killing  yourself  at  it. 
You're  losing  your  health,  and  with  your  health 
you're  losing  your  power  of  doing  any  work  worth 
a  snap  of  the  fingers." 

"  It  isn't  so  bad,  except  this  very  hot  weather," 
she  protested.  "  Then  I'm  secretary  to  the  Guild, 
you  know.  I  can  do  my  work  so  much  better  when 
I'm  really  one  of  themselves.  Besides,  they  always 
listen  to  me  at  the  meetings,  because  I  come  straight 
from  the  benches." 

"  You've  done  your  whack,"  he  declared.  "  No 
need  to  go  on  any  longer,  and  you  know  it.  I  can 
make  a  little  home  for  you  right  up  in  Hampstead, 
and  you  can  go  on  with  your  writing  and  lecturing 
and  give  up  this  slavery.  You  know  you  were  think- 
ing of  it  a  short  time  back.  You've  no  one  to  con- 
sider but  yourself.  You're  half  promised  to  me  and 
I  want  you." 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  171 

"  I  am  sorry,  Richard,"  she  said,  "  if  I  have  ever 
misled  you,  but  I  hope  that  from  now  onward,  at  any; 
rate,  there  need  be  no  shadow  of  misunderstanding. 
I  do  not  intend  to  marry.  My  work  is  the  greatest 
thing  in  life  to  me,  and  I  can  continue  it  better 
unmarried.'* 

"  It's  the  first  time  you've  talked  like  this,"  he 
persisted.  "  Amy  Chatterton,  Rachael  Weiss,  and 
most  of  'em  are  married.  They  stick  at  it  all  right, 
don't  they?  What's  the  matter  with  your  doing  the 
same  ?  " 

"  Different  people  have  different  ideas,"  she  pro- 
nounced. "  Please  be  my  friend,  Richard,  and  do 
not  worry  me  about  this.  You  can  easily  find  some 
one  else.  There  are  any  number  of  girls,  I'm  sure, 
who'd  be  proud  to  be  your  wife.  As  for  me,  it  is  im- 
possible." 

"  And  why  is  it  impossible  ?  "  he  demanded,  in  a 
portentous  tone. 

"  Because  I  do  not  care  for  you  in  that  way,"  she 
answered,  "  and  because  I  have  no  desire  to  marry; 
at  all." 

He  smoked  sullenly  at  his  pipe  for  several  mo- 
ments. All  the  time  his  eyes  were  filled  with  smoul- 
dering malevolence. 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  begin  to  talk,"  he  said. 
"  Don't  look  as  though  you  were  going  to  run  away, 
because  you're  not.  I  am  going  to  talk  to  you 
about  that  fellow  Maraton." 

"  Why  do  you  mention  his  name  ? "  she  asked, 
stiffening.  "  What  has  he  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  A  good  deal,  to  my  thinking,"   was   the  grim 


172  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

reply.  "  It's  my  belief  that  you've  a  fancy  for  him, 
and  that's  Why  you've  turned  against  me." 

"  You've  no  right  to  say  anything  of  the  sort !  " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  And,  by  God,  why  haven't  I?  "  he  insisted,  strik- 
ing his  knee  with  his  clenched  fist.  "  Haven't  you 
been  my  girl  for  six  years  before  he  came?  You 
were  kind  of  shy,  but  you'd  have  been  mine  in  the 
end,  and  you  know  it.  Waiting  was  all  I  had  to  do, 
and  I  was  content  to  wait.  And  now  he's  come  along, 
and  I  know  very  well  that  I  haven't  a  dog's  chance. 
You're  a  working  lass,  Julia,  fit  mate  for  a  working 
man.  Do  you  think  he's  one  of  our  sort  ?  Not  he ! 
Do  you  think  he's  for  marrying  a  girl  who  works 
for  her  bread?  If  you  do,  you're  a  bigger  fool  than 
I  think  you.  He's  forever  nosing  around  amongst 
these  swell  ladies  and  gentlemen  with  handles  to  their 
names,  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  live  on  the  other 
side  of  the  earth  to  us.  He  can  talk  like  a  prophet, 
I  grant  you,  but  that's  all  there  is  of  the  prophet 
about  him.  People's  man,  indeed!  He'll  be  the 
people's  man  so  long  as  it  pays  him  and  not  a  second 
longer." 

"  Have  you  finished?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  No,  nor  never  shall  have  finished,"  he  continued, 
raising  his  voice,  **  while  he's  playing  the  rotten  game 
he's  at  now,  and  you're  mooning  around  after  him  as 
though  he  were  a  god.  I'll  never  stop  speaking  until 
I've  knocked  the  bottom  out  of  that,  Julia.  You 
never  used  to  think  anything  of  fine  clothes  and  all 
these  gentlemen's  tricks.  It's  all  come  of  a  sudden." 

"  Have  you  finished  ?  "  she  asked  again. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  173 

"  Never  in  this  life !  "  he  replied  fiercely.  "  I  tell 
you  he  shan't  have  you,  and  you  shan't  have  him. 
I'm  there  between,  and  I'm  not  to  be  got  rid  of.  I'll 
take  one  of  you  or  both  of  you  by  the  throat  and 
strangle  the  life  out  of  you,  before  I  quit.  It  isn't," 
he  went  on,  his  face  once  more  disfigured  by  that 
ample  sneer,  "  it  isn't  that  I'm  afraid  of  his  wanting 
to  marry  you.  He  won't  do  that.  But  he's  one  of 
those  who  are  fond  of  messing  about  —  philanderer's 
the  word.  If  he  tries  it  on  with  you,  he'll  find  hell 
before  his  time !  Sit  down !  " 

She  had  risen  to  her  feet.  He  clutched  at  her 
skirt.  The  sense  of  his  touch  —  she  was  peculiarly 
sensitive  to  touch  — gave  her  the  strength  she  needed. 
She  snatched  it  away. 

"  Now,"  she  declared,  "  you  have  had  your  say. 
This  is  what  you  get  for  it.  You  have  offended  me. 
Our  friendship  is  forgotten.  The  less  I  see  of  you, 
the  more  content  I  shall  be.  And  as  to  what  I  do 
or  what  becomes  of  me,  it  isn't  your  business.  I 
shall  do  with  myself  exactly  as  I  choose  —  exactly 
as  I  choose,  Richard  Graveling!  You  hear  that?" 
she  reiterated,  with  blazing  eyes  and  tone  cruelly 
deliberate.  "  I  haven't  much  in  the  world,  but  my 
body  and  my  soul  are  my  own.  I  shall  give  them 
where  I  choose,  and  on  what  terms  I  please.  If  you 
try  to  follow  me,  you'll  put  me  to  the  expense  of  a 
cab  home.  That's  all !  " 

She  walked  away  with  firm  footsteps.  She  felt 
stronger,  more  of  a  woman  than  she  had  done  all 
day.  Graveling  made  no  attempt  to  follow  her.  He 
sat  and  smoked  in  stolid  silence. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Julia  was  conscious  of  a  new  vitality  as  she  left 
the  Park.  She  was  her  own  mistress  now;  her  half 
tie  to  Graveling  was  permanently  broken.  So  much 
the  better!  The  man's  personality  had  always  been 
distasteful  to  her.  She  had  suffered  him  only  as 
a  fellow  worker.  His  overtures  in  other  directions 
had  kept  her  in  a  continual  state  of  embarrassment, 
but  in  her  ignorance  as  to  her  own  feelings,  she  had 
hesitated  to  speak  out.  She  put  sedulously  behind 
her  the  question  of  what  had  brought  this  new 
enlightenment. 

She  took  the  Tube  to  the  British  Museum  and  went 
round  to  see  Aaron.  The  house  was  busier  than  she 
had  ever  seen  it  before ;  taxicabs  were  coming  and 
going,  and  four  or  five  people  sat  in  the  waiting- 
room.  Aaron  looked  up  and  waved  his  hand  as  she 
entered.  He  was  alone  in  the  study  where  he  worked. 

"  Come  in,"  he  cried  eagerly.  "  Sit  down.  It's  a 
joy  to  see  you,  Julia,  but  I  daren't  stop  working. 
I've  forty  or  fifty  letters  to  type  before  he  comes 
in,  and  he'll  be  off  again  in  half-an-hour." 

She  sank  into  an  easy  chair.  The  atmosphere  of 
the  cool  room,  with  its  opened  windows  and  drawn 
Venetian  blinds,  was  most  restful. 

"  Is  everything  going  well,  Aaron?  "  she  asked  him. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  175 

He   nodded. 

"  Better  than  well.  There's  a  telegram  just  in 
from  Manchester.  We  are  bound  to  win  there.  Did 
you  read  Foley's  speech?  " 

"Yes.  Did  he  mean  it  all,  do  you  think?"  she 
asked  doubtfully. 

"  Every  word,'*  he  replied  confidently.  "  We've 
got  it  here  in  black  and  white.  There  has  been  a 
commission  appointed.  Members  of  the  Govern- 
ment, if  you  please  —  nothing  less.  The  masters 
have  got  an  ultimatum.  If  they  refuse,  Mr.  Foley 
has  asked  Maraton  to  frame  a  bill.  We've  got  the 
sketch  of  it  here  already.  What  do  you  think  of 
that,  Julia?" 

"  I  only  wish  that  I  knew,"  she  murmured. 
"  What  can  have  happened  to  Mr.  Foley?  " 

"  They  all  do  as  Maraton  bids  them !  "  Aaron  ex- 
claimed triumphantly.  "  If  only  I  had  four  hands ! 
I  can't  finish,  Julia.  It's  impossible." 

She  sprang  up  and  tore  off  her  gloves. 

"  Let  me  help,"  she  cried  eagerly.  "  You  have 
another  typewriter  in  the  corner  there.  I  can  work 
it,  and  you  know  I  could  always  read  your  short- 
hand." * 

He  accepted  her  help  a  little  grudgingly. 

"  You  must  be  careful,  then,"  he  enjoined,  with 
the  air  of  one  who  confers  a  favour.  "  There  must 
be  no  mistakes.  Begin  here  and  do  those  letters. 
One  carbon  copy  of  each.  I'll  lift  the  machine  on 
to  the  table  for  you." 

She  propped  up  the  book  and  very  soon  there  was 
silence  in  the  room,  except  for  the  click  of  the 


176  A   PEOPLE'S    MAN 

two  typewriters.  Presently  she  stopped  short  and 
uttered  a  little  cry. 

"What  is  it?"  he  demanded,  without  looking  up 
from  his  work. 

'*  This  letter  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Unionist 
Association,  Nottingham !  " 

"Well?" 

"  Mr.  Maraton  is  to  go  there  Thursday,  to  address 
a  meeting, —  a  Unionist  meeting." 

Aaron  glowered  at  her  from  over  his  typewriter. 

"Why  not?  It's  Mr.  Foley's  idea.  He  wants 
Mr.  Maraton  in  Parliament.  Why  not  ?  " 

"  But  as  a  Unionist !  "  she  gasped.  "  Nottingham 
isn't  a  Labour  constituency  at  all." 

"He  is  coming  in  as  a  Unionist,  so  as  to  have  a 
free  hand.  We  don't  want  any  interference  from 
Peter  Dale  and  that  lot." 

She  looked  at  him  aghast.  Peter  Dale  and  his 
colleagues  had  been  gods  a  few  weeks  ago! 

"  Can't  you  see,"  Aaron  continued  irritably,  "  that 
the  coming  of  Maraton  has  changed  many  things? 
A  man  like  that  can't  serve  under  anybody,  and  no 
man  could  come  as  a  stranger  and  lead  the  Labour 
Party.  He  has  to  be  outside.  This  is  a  working 
man's  constituency.  He  is  pledged  to  fight  Capital, 
fight  it  tooth  and  nail." 

"  I  suppose  it's  all  right,"  Julia  said.  "  It  seems 
different,  somehow,  from  what  we  had  expected,  and 
he  never  goes  to  the  Clarion  at  all." 

"  Why  should  he  ?  "  Aaron  demanded.  "  They  are 
all  jealous  of  him,  every  one  of  'em;  Peter  Dale  is 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  177 

the  worst  of  the  lot.  Didn't  you  hear  how  they 
talked  to  him  at  Manchester  ?  " 

She  nodded,  and  for  a  time  they  went  on  with 
their  work.  She  found  herself,  however,  continually 
returning  to  the  subject  of  those  vital  differences; 
the  Maraton  as  they  had  dreamed  of  him  —  the 
prophet  with  the  flaming  sword,  and  this  wonderfully 
civilised  person. 

"  Tell  me  honestly,  Aaron,"  she  asked  presently, 
"what  do  you  think  of  it  all?  —  of  him  —  of  his 
methods?  You  are  with  him  all  the  time.  Haven't 
you  ever  any  doubts  ?  " 

She  watched  him  closely.  She  would  have  been 
conscious  of  the  slightest  tremor  in  his  reply,  the 
slightest  hesitation.  There  was  nothing  of  the  sort. 
He  was  merely  tolerant  of  her  ignorance. 

"  No  one  who  knows  Maraton,"  he  pronounced, 
"  could  fail  to  trust  him." 

After  that  she  asked  no  more  questions.  They 
worked  steadily  for  another  half  hour  or  so.  Mes- 
sages were  sometimes  brought  in  to  Aaron,  which 
he  summarily  disposed  of.  Julia  wondered  at  the 
new  facility,  the  heart-whole  eagerness  which  he 
devoted  to  every  trifling  matter.  Then,  just  as  she 
was  halfway  through  copying  out  a  pile  of  figures, 
Maraton  came  in.  He  stood  and  watched  them  in 
the  doorway,  half  amused,  half  surprised.  For  a 
moment  she  kept  her  head  down.  Then  she  looked 
up  slowly. 

"  Since  when,"  he  asked,  "  have  I  been  the  proud 
possessor  of  two  secretaries  ?  " 

"  You  left  me  letters  enough  for  four,  sir,"  Aaron 


178  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

reminded  him.  "  I  wanted  to  finish  them  all,  so  Julia 
stayed  to  help  me." 

Maraton  came  smiling  towards  them. 

"  Why,  I  am  afraid  I  forgot,"  he  said.  "  In 
America  I  used  sometimes  to  have  four  typists  work- 
ing. You  can't  possibly  get  out  all  those  details  by 
yourself,  Aaron." 

"  We  shall  have  finished  this  lot,  anyhow,  in  an 
hour." 

"  You  must  get  permanent  help,"  Maraton  insisted. 
"  Leave  off  now,  both  of  you.  I  want  to  talk  to 
your  sister.  Do  you  know,"  he  went  on,  turning 
towards  her,  "  that  I  have  scarcely  seen  anything  of 
you  since  Manchester  ?  " 

"  My  work  keeps  me  rather  a  prisoner,"  she  ex- 
plained, "  and  after  these  hot  days  one  hasn't  much 
energy  left." 

"  You  are  still  working  at  the  tailoring?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  I  like  to  be  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  but  this  weather 
I  am  almost  afraid  I  shan't  be  able  to  go  on.  The 
atmosphere  is  hateful.  It  seems  to  draw  all  the  life 
out  of  one." 

He  glanced  over  her  shoulder  at  the  work  she  had 
been  doing. 

"  Why  not  come  to  me?  "  he  suggested  suddenly. 
"  Aaron  needs  help.  He  can't  possibly  do  every- 
thing for  himself.  I  have  a  thirst  for  information, 
you  know.  I  want  statistics  on  every  possible  sub- 
ject. There  are  seven  or  eight  big  corporations  now, 
whose  wages  bill  I  want  to  compare  with  the  interest 
they  pay  on  capital.  Aaron  doesn't  have  time  even 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  179 

to  answer  the  necessary  letters.  I  am  in  disgrace 
all  round.  Do  come.". 

She  was  sitting  quite  still,  looking  at  him.  It 
would  have  been  impossible  for  any  one  to  have 
guessed  that  his  words  were  like  music  to  her. 

"  But  there  is  my  trade,"  she  objected.  "  After 
all,  I  am  useful  there.  I  keep  in  touch,  with  the 
girls." 

"  You  have  finished  with  that,"  he  argued.  "  You 
have  done  your  work  there.  They  all  know  who 
you  are  and  what  you  are.  You  have  lots  of  infor- 
mation which  would  be  useful  to  me.  Aaron  must 
have  some  one  to  help  him.  Why  not  you?  As  for 
the  rest,  I  can  afford  to  pay  two  secretaries  —  you 
needn't  be  afraid  of  that." 

"  I  never  thought  of  it,"  she  assured  him.  "  I 
shouldn't  want  very  much  money." 

"  Leave  that  to  me,"  he  begged,  "  only  accept. 
Is  it  a  promise?  Come,  make  it  a  promise  and  we 
will  have  an  evening  off.  All  day  long  I  seem  to 
have  been  moving  in  a  strained  atmosphere,  talking 
to  men  who  are  only  half  in  sympathy  with  me, 
talking  to  men  who  are  civil  because  they  have  brains 
enough  to  see  the  truth.  I  want  an  hour  or  two 
of  rest.  Aaron  shall  telephone  to  Gardner.  I  was 
to  have  dined  with  him  at  his  club,  but  it  is  of  no 
importance.  He  was  dining  there,  anyhow,  and  the 
other  places  I  was  going  to  this  evening  don't  count. 
Telephone  1718  Westminster,  Aaron,  and  say  that 
Mr.  Maraton  is  unable  to  keep  his  dinner  engagement 
with  Mr.  Gardner  and  begs  to  be  excused.  Then 
we'll  all  go  out  together.  What  do  you  say?  I 


i8o  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

have  found  something  almost  like  a  roof  garden. 
I'll  tell  you  all  about  New  York." 

Her  face  for  a  moment  sh6ne.  Then  she  looked 
down  at  her  gown.  He  laughed. 

"  You  have  done  your  day's  work  and  I've  done 
mine,"  he  remarked.  "  I  dare  say  of  the  two,  yours 
is  the  more  worthy.  We'll  go  just  as  we  are.  Get 
rid  of  those  people  who  are  waiting,  Aaron.  I  had 
a  look  at  them.  They  are  all  the  usual  class  — 
cadgers." 

"  There  is  one  gentleman  whom  you  must  see," 
Aaron  declared.  "  I  didn't  put  him  in  the  waiting- 
room  —  a  Mr.  Beldeman.  He  came  to  see  you  in 
Manchester." 

"  Beldeman ! " 

Maraton  repeated  the  name.     Then  he  smiled. 

"A  very  sensational  gentleman,"  he  observed. 
"  Came  to  offer  me  —  but  never  mind,  I  told  you 
about  that.  Yes,  you're  right,  Aaron.  He  is  always 
interesting.  Take  your  sister  away  for  a  few 
minutes.  You  can  be  getting  ready.  When  I've 
finished  with  Mr.  Beldeman,  we'll  start  out.  I  shan't 
change  a  thing." 

Mr.  Beldeman  entered  the  room,  carrying  his  hat 
in  his  hand,  unruffled  by  his  long  wait,  to  all  appear- 
ance wearing  the  same  clothes,  the  same  smile,  as 
on  his  visit  to  the  hotel  in  Manchester.  Maraton 
greeted  him  good-humouredly. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Beldeman,"  he  began,  "  you  see,  I 
have  made  things  all  right  for  your  syndicate  of 
manufacturers,  although  I  couldn't  accept  your  offer. 
Sit  down.  You  won't  keep  me  long,  will  you?  I 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  181 

have  to  go  out.  Perhaps  you  are  going  to  give  me 
a  little  for  my  Lancashire  operatives.  They  can 
do  with  it.  Strike  pay  over  here  is  none  too  liberal, 
you  know." 

Mr.  Beldeman  laid  down  his  hat.  He  blinked  for 
a  moment  behind  his  gold  spectacles. 

"  The  Lancashire  strike,"  he  said  softly,  "  is  of 
very  little  service  to  my  principals.  As  you  know, 
it  is  more  than  that  for  which  we  were  hoping." 

Maraton  nodded  but  made  no  remark. 

"  My  principals,"  Mr.  Beldeman  continued,  "  have 
watched  your  career,  Mr.  Maraton,  for  some 
time.  They  have  studied  eagerly  your  speeches  and 
your  writings,  and  when  you  arrived  on  this  side  they 
expected  something  more  from  you.  They  expected, 
in  fact,  the  enunciation  of  a  certain  doctrine  which 
you  have  already  propounded  with  singular  eloquence 
in  other  parts  of  the  world.  They  expected  to  find 
it  the  text  of  your  first  words  to  Labour  in  this  coun- 
try. I  refer,  of  course,  to  the  universal  strike." 

"  It  was  my  great  theory,"  Maraton  admitted, 
suddenly  grave.  "  I  will  not  say  even  now  that  I 
have  abandoned  it.  It  is  in  abeyance." 

"  My  principals,"  Mr.  Beldeman  remarked  slowly, 
"  would  like  it  to  take  place." 

Maraton  smiled. 

"  Your  principals,  I  presume,"  he  said,  "  do  not 
imagine  that  I  am  on  the  earth  to  gratify  them,  even 
though  they  did  offer  me  —  let  me  see,  how  much 
was  it  —  a  million  pounds  ?  " 

"  This  time,"  Mr.  Beldeman  went  on,  "  it  is  not 
a  question  of  money." 


i82  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Not  a  question  of  money,"  Maraton  repeated. 
"  You  don't  want  to  buy  me  ?  What  do  you  want 
to  do,  then?" 

"  We  threaten,"  Mr.  Beldeman  pronounced  calmly. 

Maraton  for  a  moment  seemed  puzzled. 

"  Threaten,"  he  murmured  thoughtfully.  "  Come, 
do  I  understand  you  properly?  Is  it  assassination, 
or  anything  of  that  sort,  you're  talking  about?  " 

Beldeman  shook  his  head. 

"  Those  are  methods  for  extreme  cases,"  he  said. 
"  Yours  is  not  an  extreme  case.  We  do  not  threaten 
you,  Mr.  Maraton,  with  death,  but  we  do  threaten 
you  with  the  death  of  your  reputation,  the  end  of 
your  career  as  a  political  power  in  this  country,  if 
you  do  not  see  your  way  clear  to  apt  as  we  desire." 

Maraton  stood,  for  a  few  seconds,  perfectly  still. 

"  You  have  courage,  Mr.  Beldeman,"  he  remarked. 

"  Sir,"  Mr.  Beldeman  replied,  "  I  have  been  as 
near  death  as  most  men.  That  is  why  I  occupy  my 
present  position.  I  am  the  special  agent  of  the 
greatest  political  power  in  the  world.  When  I 
choose  to  make  use  of  my  machinery,  I  can  kill  or 
spare,  abduct,  rob,  ruin  —  what  I  choose.  You  I 
only  threaten.  I  fancy  that  will  be  enough.  We 
have  our  hold  upon  the  press  of  this  country." 

Maraton  walked  to  the  door  and  back  again. 

"  I  killed  a  man  once,  Mr.  Beldeman,"  he  said, 
"  who  threatened  me." 

"  You  will  not  kill  me,"  Mr.  Beldeman  declared, 
with  gentle  confidence  in  his  tone. 

"  If  I  had  known,"  Maraton  continued  softly, 
"  I'd  have  wrung  your  neck  at  Manchester." 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  183 

"  Quite  easy,  I  should  say,"  Mr.  Beldeman  agreed. 
"  You  look  strong.  Without  a  doubt  I  could  make 
you  desperate.  Better  be  reasonable.  My  people 
want  the  railway  strike,  the  coal  strike,  and  the  iron 
strike  —  want  them  both  within  a  month.  Come, 
what  are  you  afraid  of?  Stick  to  your  colours,  Mr. 
Maraton.  Wasn't  it  in  the  North  American  Review 
you  declared  that  a  war  and  conquest  were  the 
inevitable  prelude  of  social  reform  in  this  coun- 
try? " 

"Did  I  say  that?"  Maraton  asked. 

"  You  did.  Now  you  are  here,  you  are  afraid. 
Never  mind,  war  and  conquest  are  to  come.  We  give 
you  a  month  in  which  to  deliver  your  message.  You 
have,  I  believe,  two  large  meetings  to  address  before 
that  date.  Make  your  pronouncement  and  all  will 
be  welt.  The  million  is  yours  for  the  people." 

"  A  sort  of  gigantic  blackmail,"  Maraton  remarked 
drily. 

"  You  can  call  it  what  you  like.  If  you  have  con- 
ditions to  make,  I  am  prepared  to  listen.  I  do  not 
insult  you  by  offering — " 

Maraton  flung  open  the  door  a  little  noisily. 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Beldeman,"  he  said.  "I 
congratulate  you  upon  the  manner  in  which  you 
have  conducted  this  interview.  I  presume  I  shall 
see  you  again  one  day  before  the  month  is  up  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  will,"  Mr.  Beldeman  replied.  "  If 
you  should  want  me  before  —  an  advance  pay- 
ment or  anything  of  that  sort  —  I  am  at  the  Royal 
Hotel." 

Maraton  was  alone  in  the  room.     For  some  mo- 


184  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

ments  he  remained  motionless.  He  heard  Aaron  and 
Julia  in  the  hall  but  he  did  not  hasten  to  join  them. 
He  moved  instead  to  the  window  and  stood  watching 
Beldeman's  retreating  form. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Maraton  led  the  way  on  to  the  roof  of  one  of  Lon- 
don's newer  hotels. 

"  They  won't  give  us  dinner  here,"  he  explained. 
"  London  isn't  civilised  enough  for  that  yet,  or  per- 
haps it's  a  matter  of  climate.  But  we  can  get  all 
sorts  of  things  to  eat,  and  some  wine,  and  sit  and 
watch  the  lights  come  out.  I  was  here  the  other 
night  alone  and  I  thought  it  the  most  restful  spot 
in  London." 

He  called  a  waiter  and  had  a  table  drawn  up  to 
the  palisaded  edge  of  the  roof.  Then  he  slipped 
something  into  the  man's  hand,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  no  difficulty  about  serving  them  with  anything 
they  required. 

"  A  salad,  some  sandwiches,  a  bottle  of  hock  and 
plenty  of  strawberries.  We  shan't  starve,  at  any 
rate,"  Maraton  declared.  "  Lean  back  in  your  chairs, 
you  children  of  the  city,  lean  down  and  look  at  your 
mother.  Look  at  her  smoke-hung  arms,  stretched 
out  as  though  to  gather  in  the  universe;  and  the 
lights  upon  her  bosom  —  see  how  they  come  twinkling 
into  existence." 

Both  of  them  followed  his  outstretched  finger  with 
their  eyes,  but  Julia  only  shivered. 

"  I  hate  it,"  she  muttered,  "  hate  it  all !  London 
seems  to  me  like  a  great,  rapacious  monster.  Our 


i8fi  A   PEOPLE'S   MAM 

bodies  and  souls  are  sacrificed  over  there.  For  what  ? 
I  was  in  Piccadilly  and  the  parks  to-day.  Is  there 
any  justice  in  the  world,  I  wonder?  It's  just  as 
though  there  were  a  kink  in  the  great  wheels  and 
they  weren't  running  true." 

"  Sometimes  I  think,"  Maraton  declared,  "  that 
the  matter  would  right  itself  automatically  but  for 
the  interference  of  weak  people.  The  laws  of  life 
are  tampered  with  so  often  by  people  without  under- 
standing. They  keep  alive  the  unworthy.  They  try 
to  make  life  easier  for  the  unfit.  They  endow  hos- 
pitals and  build  model  dwellings.  It's  a  sop  to  their 
consciences.  It's  like  planting  a  flower  on  the  grave 
of  the  man  you  have  murdered." 

"  But  these  things  help,"  Aaron  protested. 

"Help?  They  retard,"  Maraton  insisted.  "All 
charity  is  the  most  vicious  form  of  self-indulgence. 
Can't  you  see  that  if  the  poor  died  in  the  streets, 
and  the  sick  were  left  to  crawl  about  the  face  of  the 
earth,  the  whole  business  would  right  itself  auto- 
matically. The  unfit  would  die  out.  A  stronger 
generation  would  arise,  a  generation  stronger  and 
better  able  to  look  after  itself.  But  come,  we  have 
been  serious  long  enough.  You  are  tired  with  your 
day's  work,  Miss  Julia,  and  Aaron,  too.  I've  been 
in  the  committee  room  of  the  House  of  Commons  half 
the  day,  and  my  head's  addled  with  figures.  Here 
comes  our  supper.  Let  us  drop  the  more  serious 
things  of  life.  We'll  try  and  put  a  little  colour  into 
your  cheeks,  young  lady." 

He  served  them  both  and  filled  their  glasses  with 
wine.  Then,  as  he  ate,  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  187 

and  watched  them.  For  all  her  strange  beauty, 
Julia,  too,  was  one  of  the  suffering  children  of  the 
world.  The  lines  of  her  figure,  which  should  have 
been  so  subtle  and  fascinating,  were  sharpened  by  an 
unnatural  thinness.  Aaron's  cheeks  were  almost  like 
a  consumptive's,  his  ph}rsique  was  puny.  There  was 
something  in  their  expression  common  to  both. 
Maraton  was  conscious  of  a  wave  of  pity  as  he  with- 
drew his  eyes. 

"  Sometimes,"  he  said,  "  I  feel  almost  angry  with 
you  two.  You  carry  on  your  shoulders  the  burden 
of  other  people's  sufferings.  It  is  well  to  feel  and 
realise  them,  and  the  gift  of  sympathy  is  a  beautiful 
thing,  but  our  own  individualism  is  also  a  sacred  gift. 
It  is  not  for  us  to  weaken  or  destroy  it  by  encourag- 
ing a  superabundant  sympathy  for  others.  We 
each  have  our  place  in  the  world,  whether  we  owe 
it  to  fate  or  our  own  efforts,  and  it  is  our  duty  to 
make  the  best  of  it.  Our  own  happiness,  indeed,  is 
a  present  charge  upon  ourselves  for  the  ultimate 
benefit  of  others.  A  happy  person  in  the  world  does 
good  always.  You  two  have  a  leaning  towards  mor- 
bidness. If  I  had  time,  I  would  undertake  your  edu- 
cation. As  it  is,  we  will  have  another  bottle  of  wine, 
and  I  shall  take  you  to  a  music  hall." 

It  was  an  evening  that  lived  in  Julia's  mind  with 
particular  vividness  for  years  to  come,  and  yet  one 
which  she  always  found  it  difficult  to  piece  together 
in  her  thoughts.  They  went  to  one  of  the  less  fash- 
ionable music  halls,  where  the  turns  were  frequent 
and  there  was  no  ballet.  Aaron  was  very  soon  able 
to  re-establish  his  temporarily  lost  capacity  for  en- 


i88  A   PEOPLE'S    MAN 

joyment.  Maraton,  leaning  back  in  his  place  with  a 
cigar  in  his  mouth,  appreciated  everything  and  ap- 
plauded constantly.  It  was  Julia  who  found  the 
new  atmosphere  most  difficult.  She  laughed  often, 
it  is  true,  but  she  had  always  a  semi-subjective  feel- 
ing, as  though  it  were  some  other  person  who  was 
really  there,  and  she  the  instrument  chosen  to  give 
physical  indication  of  that  other  person's  presence. 
Only  once  life  seemed  suddenly  to  thrill  and  burn  in 
her  veins,  to  shoot  through  her  body  with  startling 
significance,  and  in  that  brief  space  of  time,  life  itself 
was  transformed  for  her.  Maraton  by  chance  found 
her  hand,  as  they  sat  side  by  side,  and  held  it  for  a 
moment  in  his.  There  was  nothing  secret  about  his 
action.  The  firm  pressure  of  his  fingers,  even, 
seemed  as  though  they  might  have  been  the  kindly, 
encouraging  touch  of  a  sympathetic  friend.  But 
upon  Julia  his  touch  was  magical.  The  rest  of  the 
evening  faded  into  insignificance.  She  understood 
feelings  which  had  come  to  her  that  afternoon  in  the 
park  with  absolute  completeness  for  the  first  time. 
From  that  moment  she  took  her  place  definitely 
amongst  the  women  who  walk  through  life  but  whose 
feet  seldom  touch  the  earth. 

When  the  performance  was  over,  Maraton  called 
a  taxicab. 

"  Aaron,"  he  directed,  "  you  must  take  your  sister 
back  to  her  lodgings.  No,  I  insist,"  he  added,  as 
she  protested.  "  No  'buses  to-night.  Go  home  and 
sleep  well  and  think  about  yourself." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  will  go  home  in  a  taxi,"  she  agreed,  "  if  you 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  189 

do  one  thing  for  me.  It  won't  take  long.  It 
has  been  in  my  mind  ever  since  you  said  what  you 
did  about  charity.  I  want  us  all  to  go  down  to  the 
Embankment.  It  isn't  late  enough  really,  but  I  want 
you  to  come." 

He  sighed. 

"  You  are  incorrigible,"  he  declared.  "  Never 
mind,  we  will  go.  How  good  the  air  is !  We'll  walk." 

They  turned  along  the  Strand  and  descended  the 
narrow  street  which  led  to  the  Embankment.  Then 
they  walked  slowly  as  far  as  Blackfriars  Bridge. 
They  neither  of  them  spoke  a  word.  From  time  to 
time  they  glanced  at  the  silent  and  motionless  figures 
on  the  seats.  For  the  most  part,  the  loiterers  there 
were  either  asleep  or  sitting  with  closed  eyes.  Here 
and  there  they  caught  a  glance  from  some  spectral 
face,  a  glance  cold  and  listless.  The  fires  of  life  were 
dead  amongst  these  people.  The  animal  desires  alone 
remained;  their  faces  were  dumb. 

They  stood  together  at  the  corner  of  Blackfriars 
Bridge. 

"  Well,"  Maraton  said,  "  I  have  done  your  bid- 
ding. I  have  been  here  before  many  times,  and  I 
have  been  here  in  the  winter." 

"  Tell  me,"  she  asked,  "  there  is  a  girl  there  on 
that  third  seat,  crying.  Am  I  doing  wrong  if  I  go 
to  her  and  give  her  money  for  a  night's  lodging?  " 

"  Without  a  doubt,"  he  answered.  "  And  yet,  I 
expect  you'll  do  it.  Principles  are  splendid  —  in 
the  abnegation.  If  we  are  to  be  illogical,  let  me 
be  the  breaker  of  my  own  laws." 

He  thrust  some  money  into  her  hand  and  Julia 


igo  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

disappeared.  For  some  time  she  remained  talking 
with  the  figure  upon  the  seat.  Aaron  and  Maraton 
leaned  over  the  corner  of  the  bridge  and  looked  down 
the  curving  arc  of  lights  towards  the  Houses  of  Par- 
liament. 

"  I  shall  end  there,  you  know,  Aaron,"  Maraton 
sighed.  "  I  am  not  looking  forward  to  it.  It's  a 
queer  sort  of  a  hothouse  for  a  man." 

"  I  wonder,"  Aaron  murmured  thoughtfully.  "  I 
used  to  think  of  you  travelling  from  one  to  the  other 
of  the  great  cities,  and  I  used  to  think  that  when  you 
had  spoken  to  them,  the  people  would  see  the  truth 
and  rise  and  take  their  own.  I  used  to  be  very  fond 
of  the  Old  Testament  once,"  he  went  on,  his  voice 
sinking  a  little  lower.  "  Life  was  so  simple  in  those 
days,  and  the  words  of  a  prophet  seemed  greater  than 
any  laws." 

"  And  nowadays,"  Maraton  continued,  "  life  has 
become  like  a  huge  and  complex  piece  of  machinery. 
Humanity  has  given  way  to  mechanics.  Aaron,  I 
don't  believe  I  can  help  this  people  by  any  other  way 
save  by  laws." 

They  both  turned  quickly  around.  Julia  was 
standing  by  their  side,  and  with  her  the  girl. 

"  I  told  her,"  Julia  explained,  "  that  it  was  not 
my  money  I  was  offering,  but  the  money  of  a  gen- 
tleman who  was  the  greatest  friend  the  poor  people 
of  the  world  have  ever  known.  She  wanted  to  speak 
to  you." 

The  girl  drew  her  shawl  a  little  closer  around  her 
shoulders.  Her  face  bore  upon  it  the  terrible  stamp 
of  suffering,  without  its  redeeming  purification. 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  191 

Save  for  her  abundant  hair,  her  very  sex  would  have 
been  unrecognisable.  She  looked  steadily  at  Mara- 
ton. 

'*  You  sent  me  money,"  she  said. 

"  I  did,"  he  admitted. 

"  Are  you  one  of  those  soft-hearted  fools  who  go 
about  doing  this  sort  of  thing?  "  she  demanded. 

"  I  am  not,"  he  replied.  "  I  object  to  giving 
money  away.  I  am  sorry  to  see  people  suffering,  but 
as  a  rule  I  think  that  it  is  their  own  fault  if  they 
come  to  the  straits  that  you  are  in.  I  sent  the 
money  to  please  this  young  lady." 

"  Their  own  fault,  eh  ?  "  she  muttered. 

"  I  qualify  that,"  he  added  quickly.  "  Their  own 
fault  because  they  submit  to  a  heritage  of  unjust 
laws.  It  is  your  own  fault  because  you  don't  join 
together  and  smash  the  laws.  You  would  fill  the 
jails,  perhaps,  but  you'd  make  it  easier  for  those  who 
came  after." 

She  stood  quite  silent  for  a  moment.  When  she 
spoke,  the  truculent  note  had  departed  from  her  tone. 

"  I  came  here,"  she  said,  "  meaning  to  chuck  this 
money  in  your  face.  I  thought  you  were  one  of 
these  canting  hypocrites  who  salve  their  consciences 
by  giving  away  what  they  don't  want.  My  baby 
died  this  morning  in  the  hospital,  and  they  turned 
me  out.  If  I  keep  your  money,  do  you  know  what 
I  shall  do  with  it?  Get  drunk." 

He  nodded. 

"Why  not?" 

She  looked  at  him  stolidly. 

"When  I've  spent  it,  I  shall  go  into  the  river. 


I92  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

I'm  not  fit  for  anything  else.  I'm  too  weak  to  work, 
and  for  the  rest,  look  at  me.  I'm  as  ugly  as  sin 
itself  —  just  a  few  bones  held  together." 

"  Take  the  money  and  get  drunk,"  Maraton  ad- 
vised. "  You're  quite  right.  There's  no  help  for 
you.  You've  no  spirit  to  help  yourself.  If  you 
hang  on  to  the  crust  of  the  world  through  charity, 
you  only  do  the  world  harm.  You're  better  out  of 
it." 

She  gathered  up  the  money  and  shivered  a  little. 

"  I'll  drink  yer  health,"  she  muttered,  as  she 
turned  away. 

Julia  half  started  to  follow  her,  but  Maraton  held 
her  arm. 

"  Useless,"  he  whispered.  "  She's  one  of  the 
broken  creatures  of  the  world.  Whilst  you  keep  her 
alive,  you  spread  corruption.  She'll  probably  hang 
on  to  life  until  it  gives  her  up." 

He  called  a  taxi. 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  have  my  own  way,"  he  an- 
nounced. "  Aaron  is  going  to  take  you  home.  I 
came  here  because  you  wished  it,  but  it's  very  ama- 
teurish, you  know,  this  sort  of  thing.  It's  on  a  par 
with  district  visiting  and  slumming,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  A  disease  in  the  body  sometimes  brings  out 
scars.  A  doctor  doesn't  stare  at  the  scars.  He 
treats  the  body  for  the  disease.  Get  these  places 
out  of  your  mind,  Julia.  They  are  only  useful 
inasmuch  as  they  remind  us  of  the  black  truth." 

He  took  her  hands. 

"  Remember,"  he  added,  "  that  you've  finished  with 
the  tailoring  for  a  time.  Aaron  will  want  you  to- 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  193 

morrow,  or  as  soon  as  you  can  come.  We've  piles 
of  work  to  do." 

Her  eyes  shone  at  him. 

"  Work,"  she  murmured,  "  but  think  of  the  differ- 
ence! If  it  wasn't  for  what  you've  just  said  about 
individualism,  I  think  that  I  should  be  feeling  cruelly- 
selfish." 

"  Rubbish ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  You're  secretary  of 
the  Women's  Guild,  aren't  you?  You  can  keep  that 
up.  I'll  come  and  talk  to  your  girls  some  day.  Your 
work  has  been  too  narrow  down  there.  There  are 
some  other  women's  industries  I  want  you  to  enquire 
into.  Till  to-morrow !  " 

He  strode  vigorously  away.  The  taxicab  turned 
eastward  over  Blackf  riars  Bridge. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

On  the  following  morning,  Maraton  saw  Elisabeth 
for  the  first  time  since  his  return  from  Manchester. 
As  he  rang  the  bell  of  Mr.  Foley's  residence  in 
Downing  Street,  at  a  few  minutes  before  the  hour 
at  which  he  had  been  bidden  to  luncheon,  he  found 
himself  wondering  with  a  leaven  of  resentment  in  his 
feelings  why  he  had  so  persistently  avoided  the  house 
during  the  last  three  weeks.  All  his  consultations 
with  Mr.  Foley,  and  they  had  been  many,  had  taken 
place  at  the  House  of  Commons.  He  had  refused 
endless  invitations  of  a  social  character,  and  even 
when  Mr.  Foley  had  told  him  in  plain  words  that  his 
niece  was  anxious  to  see  him,  Maraton  had  postponed 
his  call.  This  luncheon  party,  however,  was  inevit- 
able. He  was  to  meet  a  great  lawyer  who  had  a 
place  in  the  Government,  and  two  other  Cabinet  Min- 
isters. No  excuse  would  have  served  his  purpose. 

The  man  who  took  his  hat  and  coat  had  evidently 
received  special  instructions. 

"  Mr.  Foley  is  engaged  with  his  secretary,  sir,"  he 
said.  "  A  messenger  has  just  arrived  from  abroad. 
Will  you  come  this  way  ?  " 

He  was  taken  to  Elisabeth's  little  room.  She  was 
there  waiting  for  him.  Directly  she  rose,  he  knew 
why  he  had  kept  away. 

"  Are  you  not  a  little  ashamed  of  yourself,  Mr. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  195 

Maraton  ?  "  she  asked,  as  the  door  was  closed  behind 
the  departing  servant. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  he  replied,  "  I  am  proud." 

She  laughed  at  him,  naturally  at  first,  but  with  a 
note  of  self-consciousness  following  swiftly,  as  she 
realised  the  significance  of  his  words. 

"  How  foolish !  Really,  I  know  it  is  only  a  subter- 
fuge to  avoid  being  scolded.  Sit  down,  won't  you? 
You  will  have  to  wait  at  least  ten  minutes  for 
luncheon." 

They  looked  at  one  another.  He  took  up  a  volume 
of  poems  from  the  small  table  by  his  side  and  put  it 
down  again. 

"Well?"  she  asked. 

"  You  have  conquered,"  he  declared.  "  You  see, 
I  came  down  to  earth." 

"  It  isn't  possible  for  me,"  she  said  simply,  "  to 
tell  you  how  glad  I  am.  Don't  you  yourself  feel  that 
you  have  done  the  right  thing?  " 

"  Since  that  night  at  Manchester,"  he  told  her,  **  I 
have  scarcely  stopped  to  think.  Do  you  know  that 
your  strongest  allies  were  Mr.  Peter  Dale  and  his 
men?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  I  disclaim  my  allies.  If  we  arrived  at  the  same 
conclusion,  we  did  so  by  differing  lines  of  thought. 
Let  me  tell  you,"  she  went  on,  "  there  were  two  things 
for  which  I  have  prayed.  One  was  that  you  might 
start  your  fight  exactly  as  you  have  done.  The  other 
that  you  might  find  no  official  place  amongst  the 
Labour  Members.  Of  course,  I  can't  pretend  to  the 
practical  experience  of  a  real  politician,  but  my  uncle 


ig6  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

talks  to  me  a  great  deal,  and  to  me  the  truth  seemed  so 
clear.  It  is  the  advanced  Unionists  who  need  you. 
They  are  really  the  party  from  whom  progress  must 
come,  because  it  is  the  middle  class  which  has  to  be 
attacked,  and  it  is  amongst  the  middle  classes  that 
Liberalism  has  its  stronghold.  If  you  once  took  your 
place  among  the  Labour  Members,  you  would  be  a 
Labour  Member  and  nothing  else.  People  wouldn't 
take  what  you  said  seriously." 

"  I  am  coming  into  the  House,  if  at  all,  as  an  Inde- 
pendent Member,"  he  announced. 

She  nodded. 

"  Mr.  Foley  is  quite  satisfied  with  that  —  in  fact 
he  thinks  it's  best.  Do  you  know,  he  seems  to  have 
gained  a  new  lease  of  life  during  the  last  few  weeks. 
What  do  you  think  of  his  commission  on  your  Man- 
chester strike?  " 

"  He  kept  his  word,"  Maraton  admitted.  "  I  ex- 
pected no  less." 

"  I  can  tell  you  this,"  she  went  on,  "  because  I 
know  that  he  will  tell  you  himself  after  luncheon. 
The  masters  met  here  this  morning.  They  are  simply 
furious  with  my  uncle,  but  they  have  had  to  give  in. 
The  bill  you  drafted  would  have  been  rushed  through 
Parliament  without  a  moment's  delay,  if  they  had  not. 
Mr.  Foley  showed  them  your  draft.  They  have  given 
in  on  every  point." 

*'  I  am  afraid  I'm  going  to  keep  your  uncle  rather 
busy,"  Maraton  remarked.  "  Very  soon  after  this 
is  settled,  I  have  promised  to  speak  at  Sheffield." 

"  In  a  way  it  is  terrible,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh, 
"  and  yet  it  is  so  much  better  than  the  things  we 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  197 

feared.  Tell  me  about  yourself  a  little,  won't  you? 
How  have  you  been  spending  your  time?  You  have 
a  large,  gloomy  house  here,  they  tell  me,  shrouded  with 
mystery.  Have  you  any  amusements  or  have  you 
been  working  all  the  time  ?  " 

"  Half  my  days  have  been  spent  with  your  uncle," 
he  reminded  her.  "  The  other  half  at  home,  working. 
So  many  of  my  facts  were  rusty.  As  to  my  house, 
is  it  really  mysterious,  I  wonder?  It  is  large  and 
gloomy,  at  the  extreme  corner  of  an  unfashionable 
square.  It  suits  me  because  I  love  space  and  quiet- 
ness, and  yet  I  like  to  be  near  the  heart  of  things." 

"But  do  you  do  nothing  but  work?"  she  asked. 
"  Have  you  no  hobbies  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  seem  to  have  had  no  time  for  games.  I  like 
walking,  walking  in  the  country  or  even  walking  in 
the  cities  and  watching  the  people.  Only  the  London 
streets  are  so  sad.  Then  I  am  fond  of  reading.  I'm 
afraid  I  should  be  rather  a  strange  figure  if  I  were 
to  be  suddenly  projected  into  your  world,  Lady 
Elisabeth." 

"  But  I  like  to  feel  that  you  are  in  my  world,"  she 
said  gently.  "  Believe  me,  it  isn't  altogether  made 
up  of  people  who  play  games." 

,  "  I  read  the  daily  papers,"  he  remarked.  "Didn't 
I  see  something  yesterday  about  Lady  Elisabeth  Lan- 
don  having  won  the  scratch  prize  at  Ranelagh  at  a 
ladies'  golf  meeting?  " 

She  laughed  pleasantly. 

"  Oh !  well,"  she  protested,  "  you  must  make  al- 
lowance for  my  bringing  up.  We  begin  to  play 


ig8  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

games  in  this  country  as  soon  as  we  can  crawl  about 
the  nursery.  It  all  depends  upon  the  value  you  set 
upon  these  things." 

A  servant  knocked  at  the  door  and  announced  the 
service  of  luncheon.  Elisabeth  rose  reluctantly  to 
her  feet. 

"  Now,  I  suppose,  I  must  hand  you  over  to  the 
serious  business  of  life,"  she  sighed.  "  If  you  do 
have  a  minute  to  spare  when  you  have  finished  with 
my  uncle,"  she  added  in  a  lower  tone,  as  they  passed 
down  the  wide  staircase  side  by  side,  "  come  up  and 
see  me  before  you  go.  I  shall  be  in  till  four  o'clock." 

The  familiarity  of  her  words,  half  whispered  in 
his  ear,  the  delightful  suggestion  of  some  confidential 
understanding  between  them,  were  alike  fascinating 
to  him.  In  her  plain  white  serge  coat  and  skirt,  and 
smart  hat  —  she  had  just  come  in  from  walking  in 
the  park  —  she  seemed  to  him  to  represent  so  per- 
fectly the  very  best  and  most  delightful  type  of 
womanhood.  Her  complexion  was  perfect,  her  skin 
fresh  as  a  child's.  She  carried  herself  with  the 
spring  and  grace  of  one  who  walks  through  life  self- 
confidently,  fortified  always  with  the  knowledge  that 
she  was  a  favourite  with  women  as  well  as  with  men. 
He  sat  by  her  side  at  luncheon  and  he  could  not  help 
admiring  the  delicate  tact  with  which  she  prevented 
the  conversation  from  ever  remaining  more  than  a 
few  seconds  in  channels  which  might  have  made  him 
feel  something  of  an  alien.  There  was  another 
nephew  of  Mr.  Foley's  there,  a  famous  polo  player 
and  sportsman;  Lord  Carton,  whose  eyes  seldom  left 
Elisabeth's  face;  Sir  William  Blend,  the  great  law- 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  199 

yer;  Mr.  Horrill  and  Lord  Armley.  These,  with 
Elisabeth's  mother  and  herself,  made  up  the  party. 

"  I  think  I  am  going  to  bar  politics,"  Lady  Gren- 
side  said,  as  she  took  her  place. 

"  Impossible !  "  Mr.  Foley  retorted,  in  high  good 
humour.  "  This  is  a  political  luncheon.  We  have 
great  and  weighty  matters  to  discuss.  You  women 
are  permitted  to  be  present,  but  we  allot  to  you  the 
hardest  task  of  all  —  silence." 

"  A  sheer  impossibility,  so  far  as  mother  is  con- 
cerned," Elisabeth  observed.  "  As  for  me,  I  call  my- 
self a  practical  politician.  I  intend  to  take  part  in 
the  discussion." 

Mr.  Foley  looked  across  the  round  table  with 
twinkling  eyes. 

"  We  are  going  to  talk  about  Universal  Manhood 
Suffrage,"  he  announced. 

"  Scandalous,"  Elisabeth  declared,  "  before  we  have 
our  votes ! " 

"  Perhaps,"  Maraton  suggested,  "  it  was  Universal 
Suffrage  that  Mr.  Foley  meant." 

"  Including  children  and  aliens,"  Lady  Grenside 
remarked.  "I  am  sure  the  children  at  the  school  I 
went  over  yesterday  could  have  ruled  the  nation  ad- 
mirably. They  seemed  to  know  positively  every- 
thing." 

"  Mother,  you  are  too  frivolous,"  Elisabeth  insisted. 
"  If  this  tone  of  levity  is  not  dropped,  I  shall  start 
another  subject  of  conversation.  Mr.  Maraton,  you, 
of  course,  are  in  favour  of  Universal  Manhood  Suf- 
frage?" 

"  I  am  not  at  all  sure  about  it,"  he  replied.     "  It 


200  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

gives  the  vote  to  a  lot  of  people  I'd  sooner  see 
deported." 

"  But  you  —  you  to  talk  like  that !  "  she  exclaimed. 

He  smiled. 

"  Votes  should  belong  to  those  who  have  a  stake  in 
the  country,  not  to  the  flotsam  and  jetsam,"  he  con- 
tinued solemnly. 

"  But  you're  a  Tory !  "  she  cried. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  he  answered.  "  If  I  had  my  way, 
you  would  very  soon  see  that  one  man  wouldn't  have 
so  much  more  stake  in  the  country  than  another. 
Then  Universal  Suffrage  follows  automatically  —  in 
fact  that's  the  way  I'd  arrive  at  it." 

"  Don't  ever  let  Mr.  Maraton  be  Prime  Minister !  " 
Elisabeth  begged.  "  He's  too  iconoclastic," 

"  And  just  now  I  was  a  Tory,"  Maraton  pro- 
tested. 

"  It  isn't  my  fault  that  you  are  a  study  in  con- 
traries," she  laughed.  "  But  then  politicians  are 
rather  like  that,  aren't  they?  I  think  really  that 
they  should  be  like  surgeons,  specialise  all  the  time." 

"  Come  down  to  Ranelagh  and  play  golf  after 
luncheon,"  Lord  Carton  suggested  abruptly  from 
across  the  table.  "  I've  got  my  little  racing  car 
outside  and  I'll  take  you  down  there  like  a  rocket." 

"  Thanks,"  she  answered,  "  I  want  particularly  to 
stay  in  till  four  o'clock  this  afternoon.  Besides,  you 
can't  play  golf,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  think  Elisabeth  has  improved,"  he  re- 
marked to  her  mother,  turning  deliberately  away. 

"  And  I  am  sure  Jack's  left  his  heart  in  Central 
America,"  Elisabeth  declared.  "  He  was  always 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  201 

fond  of  dark-complexioned  ladies.  Mr.  Maraton, 
have  you  been  a  great  traveller?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  been  in  South  America,"  he  replied,  "  and 
I  know  most  of  the  country  between  San  Francisco 
and  New  York  pretty  well." 

"  And  Europe?  "   she  asked. 

"  I  walked  from  Vienna  to  Paris  when  I  was  a 
boy,"  he  told  her.  "  It's  years,  though,  since  I  was 
on  the  Continent." 

Her  cousin  began  to  talk  of  his  hunting  experi- 
ences, and  every  one  listened.  As  soon  as  the  service 
of  luncheon  was  concluded,  Lady  Grenside  rose. 

"  I  dare  say  we  shall  all  meet  again  before  you 
go,"  she  said.  "  Coffee  is  being  served  to  you  in 
the  library,  Stephen.  We  won?t  say  good-bye  to 
anybody.  Jack,  don't  forget  that  you  are  dining 
here  to-night.  You  shall  take  in  the  blackest  young 
lady  I  can  pick  out  for  you." 

Elisabeth  followed  her  mother.  At  the  last  mo- 
ment, Maraton  caught  a  little  whisper  which  only 
just  floated  from  her  lips. 

"Till  four  o'clock!" 

The  two  younger  men  took  their  departure  almost 
immediately.  The  others  moved  into  the  library. 
Mr.  Foley  plunged  at  once  into  the  subject  which 
was  uppermost  in  their  minds. 

"  Mr.  Maraton,"  he  began,  "  we  want  to  talk 
about  these  strikes.  Horrill  here,  and  Blend,  have 
an  idea  that  you  are  working  towards  some  definite 
result  —  that  you  have  more  in  your  mind  than  I 
have  told  them.  It  is  only  this  morning,"  he  went 


202  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

on  in  a  lower  tone,  and  glancing  towards  the  closed 
door,  "  that  I  explained  to  them  your  Manchester 
speech.  They  know  now  that  England  has  you  to 
thank  for  the  fact  that  we  are  not  at  thi*  moment 
preparing  for  war." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Between  three  and  four  o'clock,  half  a  dozen  peo- 
ple, on  different  devices,  tried  to  draw  Elisabeth 
from  her  retirement.  Her  particular  friend  called 
to  suggest  a  round  of  the  picture  galleries,  tea  at 
the  club,  and  a  motor  ride  to  Ranelagh.  Lord  Carton 
repeated  his  invitation  to  a  game  of  golf.  Two 
people  invited  her  out  into  the  country  on  various 
pretexts.  Her  dressmaker  rang  up  and  begged  for 
her  presence  without  delay.  To  all  of  these  impor- 
tunities Elisabeth  remained  deaf.  She  sat  in  her 
room  in  an  easy-chair  drawn  up  to  the  open  win- 
dow, with  a  book  in  her  hand  at  which  she  scarcely 
glanced.  Her  thoughts  were  with  the  five  men  down- 
stairs. Every  now  and  then  she  glanced  at  the 
clock.  She  heard  the  conference  break  up.  She 
sat  quite  still,  listening.  Presently  there  was  the 
sound  of  a  firm  tread  upon  the  stairs.  She  closed 
her  book  and  breathed  a  little  sigh.  A  servant 
ushered  in  Maraton. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten,  then,"  she  said  softly. 
"  Come  and  sit  in  my  favourite  chair  and  rest  for  a 
few  moments.  I  am  sure  that  you  must  be  tired." 

He  sank  down  with  an  air  of  content.  She  sat 
upon  the  end  of  the  sofa,  close  to  him,  her  head 
resting  upon  her  hands. 


204  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Well,"  she  asked,  "  have  you  converted  Sir 
William?" 

"  Up  to  a  certain  extent,  I  believe,"  he  answered, 
after  a  momentary  hesitation.  "  I  don't  think  that 
he  trusts  me.  Lawyers  have  a  habit  of  not  trusting 
people,  you  know.  On  the  other  hand,  I  don't  think 
he  means  to  give  any  trouble.  Of  course,  they  don't 
like  what  they  have  to  face.  No  one  does.  It  isn't 
every  one  who  has  the  sagacity  of  your  uncle." 

"  I  am  glad,"  she  said,  "  that  you  appreciate  him. 
Tell  me  now  what  is  going  to  happen  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Foley  will  have  his  own  way,"  Maraton  de- 
clared. "  The  Manchester  strike  will  be  over  in  a 
few  days.  The  Sheffield  strike  will  be  dealt  with  in 
the  same  manner.  People  will  talk  about  the  great 
loss  of  trade,  the  shocking  depreciation  of  profits, 
the  lowered  incomes  of  the  people,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  What  will  really  happen  will  be  that  the 
investor  and  the  manufacturer  are  going  to  pay, 
and  Labour  is  going  to  get  just  about  a  tithe  of 
its  own  in  these  two  cases.  The  country  will  be 
none  the  poorer.  The  money  will  be  still  there, 
only  its  distribution  will  be  saner." 

"  And  the  end  of  it  ?  "  she  murmured.  "  What 
will  the  end  of  it  be?  " 

"  We  can  none  of  us  tell  that,"  he  answered 
gravely.  "  There  are  some,  like  Sir  William,  who 
insist  that  when  Labour  has  once  started,  as  it  will 
have  started  after  Sheffield,  there  will  be  no  holding 
it.  I  can  not  answer  for  it.  I  only  say  that  the 
course  Mr.  Foley  has  adopted  is  distinctly  the  best 
for  the  country.  If  an  obstinate  man  had  been  in 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  205 

his  place  to-day,  nothing  could  have  saved  you  from 
civil  war  first  and  possibly  from  foreign  conquest 
later." 

"  A  month  ago,"  she  observed,  "  you  seemed  fully 
prepared  for  these  things." 

"  I  was,"  he  admitted. 

"  But  you  are  an  Englishman,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  English.  I  daresay  that  under  other  con- 
siderations I  might  even  have  called  myself  a 
patriotic  Englishman.  As  it  is,  I  have  very  little 
feeling  of  that  sort.  There  has  been  too  much  self- 
glorification,  and  it's  the  wrong  class  of  people  who've 
revelled  in  it  and  enjoyed  it.  It's  a  fine  thing  to  die 
for  one's  country.  It's  a  shameful  thing  that  that 
country  should  grind  the  life  and  brains  and  blood 
out  of  a  hundred  of  her  children,  day  by  day." 

A  servant  brought  in  tea,  delightfully  served. 
There  were  small  yellow  china  cups,  pale  tea  with 
a  faint,  aromatic  odour,  thick  cream,  strawberries 
and  cakes. 

"  If  only  you  would  appreciate  it,"  she  declared, 
"  you  are  really  rather  a  privileged  person.  No  one 
has  tea  with  me  here." 

"  I  do  appreciate  it,"  he  assured  her,  "  perhaps 
more  than  you  think." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  As  he  was  taking 
his  cup  from  her  fingers,  their  eyes  met,  and  she 
looked  away  again  almost  immediately. 

"  I  wish,"  she  said,  "  that  you  would  tell  me  more 
about  yourself  —  what  you  did  in  America,  what 
your  life  has  been?  You  are  rather  a  mysterious 
person,  aren't  you  ?  " 


206  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  In  a  sense,  perhaps,  I  must  seem  so,"  he  ad- 
mitted. "  You  see,  I  was  an  orphan  very  early. 
There  wasn't  any  one  who  cared  how  I  grew  up, 
and  I  wandered  a  good  deal.  The  earlier  part  of 
my  life  I  was  over  here  —  I  was  at  Heidelberg  Uni- 
versity, bye  the  bye  —  and  in  Paris  for  two  years 
studying  art,  of  all  things!  Then  something  —  I 
don't  know  what  it  was  —  called  me  to  America,  and 
I  found  it  hard  to  come  back.  It's  a  big  country, 
you  know,  Lady  Elisabeth.  It  gets  hold  of  you. 
If  it  hadn't  driven  me  out,  I  doubt  whether  I  should 
ever  have  left  it." 

"  But  what  was  it  first  inspired  you  with  this  — 
well,  wouldn't  you  call  it  a  passion  —  for  champion- 
ing the  cause  of  the  people  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Born  in  me,  I  suppose.  I  have  watched  them, 
lived  with  them,  and  then  I  have  been  through  the 
whole  gamut  of  Socialistic  literature.  It  is  not 
worth  reading,  most  of  it.  The  essential  facts  are 
there  to  look  at,  half-a-dozen  phrases,  a  single  field 
of  view.  It's  all  very  simple." 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  ask  you  something  else," 
she  went  on.  "  That  first  night  when  we  talked  to- 
gether, you  seemed  so  full  of  hope,  so  dauntless. 
Since  then,  is  it  my  fancy  —  since  you  came  back 
from  Manchester  —  are  you  a  little  disappointed 
with  life?  Don't  you  know  in  your  heart  that 
you've  done  what's  best  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  did,"  he  answered  simply.  **  My  com- 
mon sense  tells  me  that  I  have  chosen  well,  and  then 
sometimes,  in  the  nights,  or  when  I  am  alone,  other 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  207 

thoughts  come  to  me,  and  I  feel  almost  as  though 
I  had  been  faithless,  as  though  I  had  simply  chosen 
the  easier  way.  Look  how  pleasant  it  is  all  being 
made  for  me !  I  am  no  longer  an  outcast ;  I  bask  in 
the  sun  of  your  uncle's  patronage;  people  ask  me 
to  dinner,  seek  my  friendship,  people  whom  I  feel 
ought  to  hate  me.  I  am  not  sure  about  it  all." 

"  Listen,"  she  said,  "  if  you  had  indeed  pulled  down 
those  pillars,  don't  you  think  that  day  by  day  and 
night  by  night  you  would  have  been  haunted  by  the 
faces  of  those  whom  you  had  destroyed?  Think  of 
the  children  who  would  have  died  of  starvation,  the 
women  who  would  have  been  torn  from  their  hus- 
bands, the  ruined  homes,  the  sorrow  and  the  misery 
all  through  the  land.  Yours  would  have  been  the 
hand  which  had  dealt  this  blow.  You  would  not  have 
lived  to  have  seen  into  the  future.  Would  it  have 
been  enough  for  you  to  have  believed  that  you  had 
done  it  for  the  best  —  that  that  unborn  generation 
of  which  you  spoke  would  have  benefitted?  Oh,  I 
do  not  think  so!  I  believe  that  when  you  realise  it, 
you  must  be  glad." 

"  It  is  at  any  rate  consoling  to  hear  you  say  so," 
he  remarked.  "  Yet,  when  you  have  made  up  your 
mind  to  play  the  martyr,  it  is  a  little  hard,"  he  added, 
helping  himself  to  strawberries,  "  to  be  treated  like 
a  pampered  being." 

"  In  other  words,"  she  laughed,  "  you  are  discon- 
tented because  you  have  been  successful  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  human  nature  never  meant  to  let  us 
rest  satisfied." 

"  Don't  you  ever  think  of  yourself,"  she  asked, 


2o8  A   PEOPLE'S    MAN 

"  what  your  own  life  is  going  to  be  ?  You've  settled 
down  now.  You  will  be  a  Member  of  Parliament  in 
a  few  weeks,  a  Cabinet  Minister  before  long.  I  know 
what  my  uncle  thinks  of  you.  He  believes  in  you. 
To  tell  you  the  truth,  so  do  I." 

"  I  am  glad." 

"  I  believe,"  she  went  on,  "  that  you  will  do  the 
work  that  you  came  here  to  do.  There  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  not  do  it  from  the  Cabinet.  But 
there  is  the  rest  —  your  own  life.  Are  you  never 
going  to  amuse  yourself,  to  take  holiday,  to  draw 
some  of  the  outside  things  into  your  scheme  of 
being?  " 

He  sat  quite  silent  for  a  little  time.  He  was 
inclined  to  struggle  against  the  charm  of  her  soft 
voice,  the  easy  intimacy  with  which  she  treated  him. 
In  a  sense  he  felt  as  though  he  were  losing  control 
of  himself. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "  I  think  one  ought  to 
find  one's  work  sufficient  for  a  time.  It  is  engross- 
ing, isn't  it?  And  that  reminds  me  —  I  must  go." 

He  rose  almost  abruptly  to  his  feet.  She  was 
quick  to  appreciate  his  slight  confusion  of  thought, 
his  nervous  self-impatience,  and  she  smiled  quietly. 
She  was  content  to  let  him  escape.  She  held  out 
her  hand,  though,  and  his  fingers  seemed  conscious 
of  the  firm,  delicate  warmth  of  her  clasp. 

"  Come  and  talk  to  me  again  soon,"  she  begged. 
"  Come  either  as  a  politician  or  a  friend,  or  how- 
ever you  like.  It  gives  me  so  much  pleasure  to  talk 
with  you.  Uncle  will  tell  you  that  every  one  spoils 
me.  Even  Sir  William  comes  and  tells  me  about 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  209 

his  troubles  with  the  Irish  Members.  Will  you 
come?  " 

He  made  a  half  promise.  His  departure  was  a 
little  hasty  —  almost  abrupt ;  he  was  conscious  of 
a  distinct  turmoil  of  feeling.  He  hurried  away,  as 
though  anxious  to  rid  himself  of  the  influence  of  the 
place.  At  the  corner  of  the  street  he  was  about  to 
hail  a  taxicab  when  a  man  gripped  him  by  the  arm. 
He  turned  quickly  around.  The  face  was  somehow 
familiar  to  him  —  the  grey,  untidy  beard,  long  hairy 
eyebrows,  sunken  eyes,  the  shabby  clothes.  It  was 
David  Ross. 

"  Can  I  speak  a  word  with  you,  Mr.  Maraton  ?  " 

Maraton  nodded. 

"  Of  course.  I  don't  remember  your  name.  You 
were  at  Manchester,  weren't  you,  and  at  my  house 
with  the  others  ?  " 

"  Ross,  my  name  is,"  the  man  answered.  "  I'd 
no  call  to  be  at  Manchester,  for  I'm  not  one  of  the 
delegates.  I'm  not  an  M.P.  but  I've  done  a  lot  of 
speaking  for  them  lately,  and  Peter  Dale,  he  said  if 
I  paid  my  own  expenses  I  could  come  along.  I  bor- 
rowed the  money.  I  had  to  come.  I  had  to  hear 
you  speak.  I  wanted  to  know  your  message." 

"  Were  you  satisfied  with  it  ?  "  Maraton  enquired. 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  the  doubtful  reply.  "  You 
ask  me  a  question  I  can't  answer  myself.  I  thought 
so  at  the  time,  but  since  then  I've  spent  many  sleep- 
less nights  and  many  tired  hours,  asking  myself  that 
question.  Now  I  am  here  to  ask  you  one.  Did  you 
speak  that  night  what  you  had  in  your  mind  when 
you  left  America?  —  what  you  thought  of  on  the 


210  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

steamer  coming  over  —  what  you  meant  to  say  when 
first  you  set  foot  in  this  country  ?  " 

Maraton  was  interested.  He  walked  slowly  along 
by  the  side  of  his  companion. 

"  I  did  not,"  he  admitted.  "  I  came  with  other 
views." 

"  I  knew  it !  "  Ross  exclaimed,  almost  fiercely.  "  I 
felt  it,  man.  You  came  to  preach  redemption,  even 
though  the  means  were  sharp  and  short  and  sudden, 
means  of  blood,  means  of  death.  Before  you  ever 
came  here,  I  seemed  to  hear  your  voice  crying  across 
that  great  continent,  crying  even  across  the  ocean. 
It  was  a  terrible  cry,  but  it  seemed  as  though  it 
must  reach  up  into  heaven  and  down  into  hell,  for 
it  was  aflame  with  truth.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
could  see  the  revolution  upon  us,  the  death  that  is 
like  sleep,  the  looking  down  once  more  from  some 
undiscovered  place  upon  the  new  morning.  You 
never  uttered  that  cry  over  here." 

Maraton  glanced  at  his  companion  curiously. 

"  Mine  was  an  immense  responsibility,"  he  said. 
"  Granted  that  I  had  the  power,  do  you  think  that 
I  had  the  right  to  stir  up  a  civil  war  here  in  the 
face  of  the  help  I  was  promised  for  our  people  ?  " 

David  Ross  sighed. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  confessed.  "  I  only  know 
that  many  years  ago,  Peter  Dale,  when  he  was  a 
young  man,  spoke  as  though  the  word  of  truth  were 
burning  in  his  heart.  He  was  for  a  revolution.  He 
would  be  content  with  nothing  less.  And  Borden 
was  like  that,  and  Graveling,  and  others  whom  you 
don't  know.  And  then  the  people  gave  them  their 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  211 

mandate,  knocked  a  bit  of  money  together,  and  sent 
them  to  Parliament.  There,  somehow  or  other,  they 
seemed  to  fall  into  the  easier  ways.  They  worked 
stolidly  and  honestly,  no  doubt,  but  something  had 
gone,  something  we've  all  missed,  something  that  by 
this  time  might  have  helped.  When  they  told  me  — 
it  was  Aaron  who  came  and  told  me  —  rode  his  bicycle 
like  a  madman,  all  the  way  from  Soho.  '  Maraton 
is  come ! '  he  shouted.  Then  it  seemed  to  me  that 
freedom  was  here;  no  more  compromises,  but  battle 
—  the  naked  sword,  battle  with  the  wrongs  of  gener- 
ations to  requite.  Is  the  sword  sheathed?  " 

Maraton  passed  his  arm  through  his  companion's. 

"  It  is  not  sheathed,"  he  declared,  "  nor  while  I 
have  life  will  it  be  sheathed.  If  I  have  chosen  the 
quieter  methods,  it  is  because  for  the  present  I  have 
come  to  believe  that  they  are  the  best.  Six  hundred 
thousand  people  in  Lancashire  are  going  to  start 
life  next  Monday  with  an  increase  of  between  fifteen 
and  twenty  per  cent  to  their  weekly  wage.  Isn't 
that  something  to  the  good?  And  then,  in  a  few 
weeks,  every  forge  and  furnace  in  Sheffield  will  be 
cold  until  the  men's  demands  are  granted  there. 
And  when  that  is  over,  we  go  for  every  industry, 
one  by  one,  throughout  the  country.  Before  a  year 
is  past,  I  reckon  that  many  millions  will  have  passed 
from  the  pockets  of  the  middle  classes  into  the  pockets 
of  the  labouring  man.  I  am  going  to  set  that  stream 
running  faster  and  faster,  and  then  I  am  going  to 
begin  all  over  again.  With  prosperity,  the  labour- 
ing classes  will  gain  strength.  You  will  have  more 
time  for  thought,  for  education,  for  self-knowledge. 


212  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

And  as  they  gain  strength,  once  more  we  raise  our 
hands.  Do  they  seem  slow  to  you,  our  methods, 
David  Ross  ?  Believe  me,  they  did  to  me.  Yet  in  my 
heart  I  know  that  I  have  chosen  the  right." 

The  man  drew  a  little  sigh.  There  may  have 
been  disappointment  mingled  with  it,  yet  there  was 
a  certain  amount  of  relief. 

"  I  was  afraid  for  you,  Maraton,"  he  said.  "  I 
thought  of  those  others  when  they  stumbled  upon  the 
easy  ways,  and  I  was  afraid.  With  you  it  may  be 
different.  Hold  on  your  way,  then.  It  is  not  for 
me  to  criticise.  But  if  you  slacken,  if  your  hand 
droops,  then  I  shall  come  again." 

He  turned  abruptly  away  and  disappeared,  walk- 
ing with  quick,  shambling  footsteps.  Maraton 
looked  after  him  thoughtfully  for  several  moments, 
then  he  continued  on  his  way  homewards. 


CHAPTER  XXIH 

The  last  words  had  been  spoken,  the  suspense  of 
a  few  hours  was  at  an  end.  Maraton  was  on  his  way 
back  to  London,  a  duly  accredited  Member  of  Parlia- 
ment for  the  eastern  division  of  Nottingham.  From 
his  plaee  in  the  railway  carriage  he  fancied  that  he 
could  hear  even  now  the  roar  of  voices,  feel  the  thrill 
of  emotion  with  which  he  had  waited  for  the  result. 
An  Independent  Member,  even  when  backed  as  Mara- 
ton had  been  backed,  is  never  in  a  wholly  safe  position. 
On  the  whole,  he  had  done  well.  He  had  increased 
the  majority  of  four  hundred  to  a  majority  of  seven 
hundred.  And  this,  too,  in  the  face  of  unexpected 
difficulties.  At  the  last  minute  a  surprise  had  been 
sprung  upon  the  constituency.  A  Labour  candidate 
had  entered  the  field.  Maraton's  telegram  to  Peter 
Dale  had  produced  no  reply.  The  man,  if  not 
officially  recognised,  was  at  least  not  officially  dis- 
couraged. His  intervention  had  been  useless,  how- 
ever. Maraton  had  carried  the  working  men  with 
him.  In  a  sense  it  was  an  election  on  the  strangest 
issues  which  had  ever  been  fought.  Many  of  the 
most  far-seeing  journalists  of  the  day  predicted  in 
this  new  alliance  the  redistribution  of  Parties  which 
for  some  time  had  been  inevitable.  So  far  as  Mara- 
ton was  concerned,  it  was,  without  doubt,  an  unex- 
pected phase  in  his  career.  He  was  Maraton,  M.P., 


2i4  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

representative  of  a  manufacturing  town ;  elected, 
indeed,  as  an  Independent,  but  with  a  weighty  back- 
ing of  the  Unionist  Party  behind  him.  The  next 
time  he  spoke,  probably,  if  he  did  speak  before  his 
journey  to  Sheffield,  would  be  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. Would  he,  like  those  others,  feel  the  inertia 
of  it,  the  slow  decay  of  his  ambitions,  the  fatal  ten- 
dency towards  compromise? 

Arrived  at  St.  Pancras,  Maraton  drove  straight  to 
his  house  in  Russell  Square  and,  letting  himself  in 
with  his  latch-key,  made  his  way  to  the  study.  The 
lights  were  still  burning  there.  Julia  and  Aaron 
were  sitting  opposite  to  one  another  at  the  end  of  the 
long  table,  a  typewriter  between  them  and  a  pile  of 
-  papers  by  Aaron's  side.  Julia  rose  at  once  to  her 
feet. 

"  You  are  in ! "  she  cried.  "  We  have  been  tele- 
phoning all  the  evening.  We  heard  half  an  hour 
ago." 

Maraton  nodded. 

"In  by  seven  hundred.  Not  bad,  I  suppose,  con- 
sidering that  I  must  have  been  rather  a  hard  nut  to 
crack.  Has  Peter  Dale  been  here  ?  " 

Aaron  shook  his  head. 

'*  He  hasn't  been  near  the  place." 

Maraton's  face  hardened. 

"  You  know  that  they  sprang  a  Labour  candidate 
upon  me  at  the  last  moment?  He  did  me  no  par- 
ticular harm,  but  it  was  an  infamous  trick.  I  wired 
to  Dale  yesterday  and  had  no  reply." 

"  David  Ross  has  been  here,"  Aaron  said.  "  We 
heard  all  about  it  from  him.  There  is  dissension  in 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  215 

the  camp.  Dale  was  in  favour  of  withdrawing  their 
candidate,  but  Graveling  wouldn't  have  it." 

"  He  did  me  no  harm,  anyway,"  Maraton  re- 
marked. "  The  Labour  vote  was  mine  from  the 
start." 

"  So  it  ought  to  have  been,"  Aaron  declared  vigor- 
ously. "  What  could  they  do  but  vote  for  you,  with 
Manchester  staring  them  in  the  face  ?  " 

Maraton's  expression  lightened,  a  gleam  of  humour 
twinkled  in  his  eyes. 

"  After  all,"  he  murmured,  "  it  would  have  been 
almost  Gilbertian  if  I  had  been  returned  to  Parlia- 
ment with  the  Labour  vote  against  me!  ...  Aaron, 
go  and  ring  up  Peter  Dale.  I  want  this  matter 
cleared  up.  Ask  him  when  we  can  meet." 

Aaron  left  the  room  upon  his  errand.  Maraton 
moved  restlessly  about  the  room  for  a  moment  or 
two.  He  mixed  himself  a  drink  at  the  sideboard, 
and  lit  a  cigarette.  Julia's  eyes  followed  him  all 
the  time. 

"  So  you  are  a  Member  of  Parliament,"  she  said 
at  last. 

"  I  hope  you  approve?  "  he  queried. 

Julia  did  not  answer  him  at  once.  He  looked 
across  at  her  from  the  depth  of  the  easy  chair  into 
which  he  had  thrown  himself.  She  was  wearing  a 
plain  black  dress,  buttoned  to  her  throat  and  unre- 
lieved even  by  a  linen  collar  or  any  touch  of  white. 
She  was  pale,  and  her  eyes  seemed  all  the  more  beau- 
tiful for  the  faint  violet  lines  beneath  them. 

"  Parliament  has  been  the  grave  of  so  many  men's 
careers,"  Maraton  continued.  "  I  am  fully  warned. 


216  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Nothing  of  the  sort  is  going  to  happen  to  me.  I 
wouldn't  have  gone  in  now  but  for  Foley.  It's  only 
fair.  It  helps  him,  and  he's  sticking  to  his  pledges 
like  a  man." 

"  When  do  you  go  to  Sheffield?  "  she  asked. 

"  Next  Wednesday.     No  postponements." 

Julia  nodded. 

"  Mr.  Elgood  has  been  here  this  afternoon,"  she 
said,  "  from  Sheffield.  He  is  the  secretary  of  the 
Union,  you  know.  He  is  coming  again  to-morrow 
morning.  He  wants  to  talk  to  you  about  the  boys' 
age  limit." 

"  Any  letters  of  consequence  ?  " 

Julia  pointed  a  little  disdainfully  to  a  pile  upon 
the  table. 

"  All  invitations,"  she  observed  coldly.  "  Perhaps 
you  had  better  look  them  through." 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  They  are  no  use  to  me,"  he  declared,  "  unless 
they're  political  ?  " 

He  rose  and  stood  by  Julia's  side,  glancing  idly 
through  the  heap  of  papers  by  the  side  of  her 
machine. 

"  You  seem  to  have  found  plenty  to  do,  anyway," 
he  remarked. 

"  There  was  a  great  deal,"  she  assured  him.  "  I 
think  I  have  collected  all  the  possible  information 
you  can  need  on  the  steel  works  of  Sheffield." 

"  Haven't  been  overworking,  I  hope  ?  " 

She  laughed  at  him  softly.  Her  parted  lips 
seemed  somehow  to  lighten  her  face. 

"  This  doesn't  quite  compare  with  nine  hours  a 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  217 

day  over  a  sewing  machine,  with  a  hundred  other 
girls  packed  into  a  small  room,"  she  reminded  him. 
"  No,  I  haven't  been  overworking.  I  almost  wished, 
an  hour  ago,  that  I  could  find  something  more  to  do." 

"Why  didn't  you  go  out?" 

"  To-morrow  night  is  Guild  night,"  she  said.  "  I 
go  out  then  to  talk  to  my  girls.  Miss  Stevens  is 
coming  from  the  Lyceum  Club  to  lecture  to  us  on 
Woman's  Suffrage." 

"  Do  you  want  a  vote?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  it  comes,"  she  replied.  "  It  isn't  worth  wor- 
rying about.  I  like  my  girls,  though,  to  be  taught 
to  think." 

There  was  a  brief  silence.  Maraton  was  still 
examining  the  letters  laid  out  for  his  inspection. 
Julia  was  standing  by  his  side.  As  the  last  one 
slipped  through  his  fingers,  he  turned  quickly  towards 
her,  oppressed  by  some  mysterious  significance  in 
her  silence.  Her  eyes  were  luminous.  She  seemed 
to  be  trembling.  She  avoided  his  enquiring  glance. 

"  Julia !  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  lifted  her  head  slowly,  almost  unwillingly. 
Though  her  lips  were  parted,  she  made  no  attempt 
at  speech.  Then  the  door  was  suddenly  opened. 
Aaron  entered  in  some  excitement. 

"  Mr.  Dale  and  some  of  the  others  are  here  now, 
sir,"  he  announced.  "  I  heard  they  were  on  their 
way  when  I  telephoned.  They  would  like  to  see  you 
at  once." 

Maraton  stood  for  a  moment  quite  still,  without 
replying.  Aaron  gazed  across  the  table  in  some  sur- 
prise. 


2i8  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  them?  "  he  asked.     "  They 
are  here  now." 

Maraton  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  Let  them  come  in,"  he  directed. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

The  three  men  —  Peter  Dale,  Abraham  Weavel 
and  Graveling  filed  into  the  room  a  little  solemnly. 
Maraton  shook  hands  with  the  two  former,  but 
Graveling,  who  kept  his  head  turned  away  from 
Julia,  affected  not  to  notice  Maraton's  friendly  over- 
tures. 

"  So  you  managed  it  all  right,"  Peter  Dale  re- 
marked. "  Pretty  close  fit,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Seven  hundred,"  Maraton  replied.  "  Not  so  bad, 
considering.  You  see,  I  was  a  complete  stranger 
and  I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  learnt  the  knack  yet 
of  that  sort  of  platform  speaking." 

"  However  that  may  be,"  Abraham  Weavel  de- 
clared, accepting  a  cigar  from  the  box  which  Mara- 
ton had  ordered,  and  standing  with  his  hands  under- 
neath his  coat-tails  upon  the  hearthrug,  "  you've 
done  the  trick.  You're  an  M.P.,  same  as  we  are." 

"You've  no  objection,  I  hope?"  Maraton  re- 
marked lightly. 

"  That's  as  may  be,"  Mr.  Weavel  observed  sen- 
tentiously.  "  We  don't,  so  to  speak,  know  exactly 
where  we  are  just  at  this  moment.  There's  all  sorts 
of  rumours  going  about,  and  we  want  them  cleared 
up.  Go  on,  Dale,  ask  him  the  first  question.  You're 
spokesman,  you  know." 

Mr.  Peter  Dale  threw  away  the  match  with  which 


220  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

he  had  just  lit  his  pipe,  sampled  the  whiskey  and 
water  to  which  he  had  helped  himself  with  a  most 
liberal  hand,  and  deliberately  selected  the  most  com- 
fortable chair  within  reach.  With  his  hands  in  his 
trousers  pockets,  the  thumbs  protruding,  his  pipe  in 
the  left-hand  corner  of  his  mouth,  his  eyebrows  drawn 
close  together,  he  looked  steadfastly  towards  Mar- 
aton. 

"  The  first  question,"  he  began  stolidly,  **  is  this. 
You  owe  your  seat  in  Parliament  to  the  Unionists. 
What  have  you  promised  them  in  return?  You 
haven't  attempted  to  commit  us  to  anything,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  Maraton  replied.  "  Such  an 
idea  never  occurred  to  me.  So  far  as  I  know,"  he 
went  on,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  *'  Mr.  Foley  is 
not,  at  the  moment,  in  need  of  your  support.  His 
majority  is  sufficient." 

Peter  Dale  frowned  ominously. 

"  That  may  or  may  not  be,"  he  remarked  gruffly. 
<{  So  long  as  you  haven't  taken  it  upon  yourself  to 
pledge  us  to  anything,  well,  that  disposes  of  question 
number  one.  The  next  is,  where  are  you  going  to 
sit  in  the  House?" 

Maraton's  eyebrows  were  slightly  raised. 

"  Where  am  I  going  to  sit?  "  he  repeated.  "  Re- 
member, if  you  please,  that  as  a  member  I  have  never 
been  inside  your  House  of  Commons.  I  am  not  ac- 
quainted with  its  procedure.  Where,  in  your  opin- 
ion, ought  I  to  sit?  " 

"  Your  place  is  with  us,"  Peter  Dale  declared.  "  I 
can't  see  that  there's  any  doubt  about  that." 

"And  why?" 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  221 

"You're  a  Labour  man,  aren't  you?"  Peter  Dale 
asked.  "  You  call  yourself  one,  anyway." 

"  If  I  am  a  Labour  man,"  Maraton  said,  "  why 
did  you  put  up  a  candidate  to  oppose  me  at  Notting- 
ham?" 

Peter  Dale  smoked  steadily  for  several  moments. 

"  It  was  nowt  to  do  with  me,"  he  announced. 
"  The  fellow  sprung  up  all  on  his  own,  as  it  were. 
Graveling  here  may  have  known  something  of  it,  but 
so  far  as  we  are  concerned  he  was  not  an  authorised 
candidate." 

Maraton  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 

"  There  was  nothing,"  he  objected,  "  to  convey 
that  idea  to  the  electors.  He  made  use  of  the 
Labour  agent  and  the  Labour  committee  rooms.. 
My  telegram  to  you  remained  unanswered.  Under 
those  circumstances,  I  really  can  scarcely  see  how 
you  find  it  possible  to  disown  him." 

"  In  any  case,"  Abraham  Weavel  intervened,  with 
conciliation  in  his  tone,  "he  didn't  do  himself  a  bit 
o*  good  nor  you  a  bit  of  harm.  Four  hundred  and 
thirty  votes  he  polled  out  of  eight  thousand,  and 
those  were  votes  which  otherwise  would  have  gone  to 
the  Liberal.  I  should  say  myself  that  it  did  you 
good,  if  anything." 

"You  may  be  right,"  Maraton  admitted.  "At 
the  same  time,  one  thing  is  very  clear.  You  did  not 
offer  me  the  slightest  official  support.  It  is  true 
that  I  did  not  ask  for  it.  I  prefer,  as  I  have  told 
you  all  along,  my  independence.  It  will  be  my  object 
to  continue  without  direct  association  with  any  party. 
If  I  can  find  a  place  in  the  house  allotted  to  Inde- 


222  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

pendent  Members,  I  shall  sit  there.  If  not,  I  shall 
sit  with  the  Unionists." 

Peter  Dale's  face  darkened.  This  was  what  they 
had  feared. 

"  You  mean  that  you're  breaking  away  from  us  ?  " 
he  exclaimed  angrily.  "  There's  no  room  in  our 
little  party  for  Independent  Members,  no  sort  of 
sense  in  a  mere  handful  of  us  all  pulling  different 
ways." 

"  I  never  joined  your  party,  Mr.  Dale,"  Maraton 
reminded  him.  "  I  have  never  joined  any  man's 
party.  I  am  for  the  people." 

"  And  what  about  us  ? "  Graveling  demanded. 
"Aren't  we  for  the  people?  Isn't  that  what  we're 
in  Parliament  for?  Isn't  that  why  we  are  called 
Labour  Members  ?  " 

Maraton  regarded  the  last  speaker  steadily. 

"  Mr.  Graveling,"  he  said,  "  since  you  have  mooted 
the  question,  I  will  admit  that  I  do  not  consider  you, 
as  a  body  of  men,  entirely  devoted  to  the  cause  of 
the  people.  You  are  each  devoted  to  your  own  con- 
stituency. It  is  your  business  to  look  after  the  few 
thousand  voters  who  sent  you  into  Parliament,  and  in 
your  eagerness  to  serve  and  please  them,  I  think 
that  you  sometimes  forget  the  greater,  the  more  uni- 
versal truths.  I  may  be  wrong.  That  is  how  the 
matter  seems  to  me." 

"  Then  since  you're  so  frank,"  Peter  Dale  de- 
clared, with  undiminished  wrath,  "  I'll  just  imitate 
your  candour!  I'll  tell  you  how  you  seem  to  us. 
You  seem  like  a  man  with  a  gift,  whose  head  has 
been  turned  by  Mr.  Foley  and  his  fine  friends. 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  223 

You're  full  of  great  phrases,  but  there's  nothing 
practical  about  them  or  you.  You're  on  your  way 
to  an  easy  place  for  yourself  in  the  world,  and  a  seat 
in  Foley's  Cabinet." 

"  Have  you  any  objection,"  Maraton  asked,  "  to 
the  people's  cause  being  represented  in  the  Cabinet  ?  " 

It  was  the  last  straw,  this!  Peter  Dale's  voice 
shook  with  passion. 

"  It's  been  a  promise,"  he  shouted,  "  for  this  many 
a  year !  A  sop  to  the  people  it  was,  at  the  last  elec- 
tion. There's  one  of  us  ought  to  be  in  the  Cabinet 
—  one  of  us,  I  say,  not  a  carpetbagger ! " 

"  We're  the  wrong  type  of  man,"  Graveling  broke 
in  sarcastically.  "  That's  what  he  said.  He  was 
heard  to  say  it  to  the  Home  Secretary.  The  wrong 
type  of  man  he  called  us." 

Maraton  suddenly  changed  his  attitude.  He  was 
momentarily  conscious  of  Julia  listening,  from  her 
place  in  the  background,  to  every  word  with  strained 
attention.  After  all,  these  men  had  doubtless  done 
good  work  according  to  their  capacity. 

"  My  friends,"  he  protested,  "  why  do  we  bandy 
words  like  this  ?  Perhaps  it  is  my  fault.  I  have  had 
a  long  and  tiring  day,  and  I  must  confess  that  I  to 
some  extent  resented  a  Labour  man  being  set  up 
against  me,  without  a  word  of  explanation.  You 
mean  well,  all  of  you,  I  am  sure,  even  if  we  can't 
quite  see  the  same  way.  Don't  let's  quarrel.  I  am 
not  used  to  Parties.  I  can't  serve  under  any  one. 
My  vote's  my  own,  and  I  don't  like  the  political  jug- 
gery  of  selling  it  here  and  there  for  a  quid  pro  quo. 
We  may  sit  on  opposite  benches,  but  I  give  you  my 


224  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

word  that  there  isn't  anything  in  the  world  which 
brings  me  into  political  life  or  will  keep  me  there, 
save  the  welfare  of  the  people.  Now  shake  hands, 
all  of  you.  Let  us  have  a  drink  together  and  part 
friends." 

Peter  Dale  shook  his  head  doggedly.  He  had 
risen  to  his  feet  —  a  man  filled  with  slow  burning  but 
bitter  anger. 

"  No,  sir ! "  he  declared.  "  Me  and  my  mates 
have  stood  for  the  people  for  this  many  a  year,  and 
we've  no  fancy  for  a  fine  gentleman  springing  up 
like  a  Jack-in-the-box  from  somewhere  else  in  the 
House,  without  any  reference  to  us,  and  yet  calling 
himself  and  advertising  himself  as  the  champion  of 
our  cause.  Outside  Parliament  we  can't  stop  you. 
The  Trades'  Union  men  think  more  of  you,  maybe, 
than  they  do  of  us.  But  inside  you  can  plough  your 
own  furrow,  and  for  my  part,  when  you're  on  your 
legs,  the  smoking-room  will  be  plenty  good  enough  for 
me!" 

"  And  for  the  rest  of  us ! "  Graveling  agreed 
fiercely.  "  If  you're  so  keen  on  being  independent, 
you  shall  see  what  you  can  do  on  your  own." 

Dale  was  already  on  his  way  to  the  door,  but 
Maraton  checked  him. 

"  Mr.  Dale,"  he  said,  "  you  are  an  older  man  than 
I  am,  a  man  of  much  experience.  I  beg  you  to 
reflect.  The  feelings  which  prompt  you  towards  this 
action  are  unworthy.  If  you  attempt  to  send  me  to 
Coventry,  you  will  simply  bring  ridicule  upon  a 
Party  which  should  be  the  broadest-minded  in  the 
House." 


He  had  risen  to  his  feet  —  a  man  filled  with  slow  burning  but 
bitter  anger.     Page  224. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  225 

Mr.  Dale  turned  around.  He  had  already 
crammed  his  black,  wide-awake  hat  on  to  his  head. 
Like  all  men  whose  outlook  upon  life  is  limited,  the 
idea  of  ridicule  was  hateful  to  him. 

"  You  mark  my  words,  young  man,"  he  growled. 
"  The  one  that  makes  a  fool  of  himself  is  the  one 
that's  going  to  play  the  toady  to  a  master  who  will 
send  him  to  heel  with  a  kick,  every  time  he  opens  his 
mouth  to  bark !  Go  your  own  way.  I'm  only  sorry 
you  ever  set  foot  in  this  country." 

He  passed  out,  followed  by  Weavel.  Graveling 
only  lingered  upon  the  threshold.  He  was  looking 
towards  Julia. 

"  Miss  Thurnbrein,"  he  said,  "  can  I  have  a  word 
with  you  ?  " 

"  You  cannot,"  she  replied  steadily. 

He  remained  there,  dogged,  full  of  suppressed 
wrath.  The  sight  of  her  taking  her  place  before 
the  typewriter  seemed  to  madden  him.  Already  she 
was  the  better  for  the  change  of  work  and  surround- 
ings, for  the  improved  conditions  of  her  daily  life. 
There  was  the  promise  of  colour  in  her  cheeks.  Her 
plain  black  gown  was  as  simple  as  ever,  but  her  hair 
was  arranged  with  care,  and  she  carried  herself  with 
a  new  distinction,  born  of  her  immense  contentment. 
Her  supercilious  attitude  attracted  while  it  infuriated 
him. 

"  It's  only  a  word  I  want,"  he  persisted.  "  I  have 
a  right  to  some  sort  of  civility,  at  any  rate." 

"  You  have  no  rights  at  all,"  she  retorted.  "  I 
thought  that  we  had  finished  with  that  the  last  time 
we  spoke  together." 


226  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  I  want  to  know,"  he  went  on  obstinately,  "  why 
you  haven't  been  to  work  lately?  " 

"  Because  I  have  left  Weinberg's,"  she  told  him 
curtly.  "  It  is  no  business  of  yours,  but  if  it  will 
help  to  get  rid  of  you  — " 

"  Left  Weinberg's,"  he  repeated.  "  Got  another 
job,  eh?  " 

"  I  am  Mr.  Maraton's  assistant  secretary,"  she 
announced. 

His  face  for  a  moment  was  almost  distorted  with 
anger. 

"You're  living  here  —  under  this  roof?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"  It  is  no  concern  of  yours  where  or  how  I  am 
living,"  she  answered. 

"  That's  a  lie ! "  Graveling  exclaimed  furiously. 
"  You're  my  girl.  I've  hung  around  after  you  for 
six  years.  I've  known  you  since  you  were  a  child. 
I'll  be  d  —  d  if  I'll  be  thrown  on  one  side  now  and 
see  you  become  another  man's  mistress  —  especially 
his!" 

He  came  a  step  further  into  the  room.  Maraton, 
who  had  been  standing  with  his  back  to  them,  arrang- 
ing some  papers  on  his  desk,  turned  slowly  around. 
Graveling  was  advancing  towards  him  with  the  air 
of  a  bully. 

"Do  you  hear  —  you  —  Maraton?"  he  cried. 
"  I've  had  enough  of  you !  You  can  flout  us  all  at 
our  work,  if  you  like,  but  you  go  a  bit  too  far  when 
you  think  to  make  a  plaything  of  my  girl.  Do  you 
hear  that?"  J 

"  Perfectly,"  Maraton  replied. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  227 

"  And  what  have  you  got  to  say  about  it?  " 

Maraton  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  anything  particular  to 
say  about  it.  If  it  interests  you  to  be  told  my  opin- 
ion of  you,  you  are  welcome  to  hear  it." 

Graveling  advanced  a  step  nearer  still.  His  fists 
were  clenched,  an  ugly  scowl  had  parted  his  lips. 
Julia  came  swiftly  from  her  seat.  Her  eyes  were 
filled  with  fury.  She  faced  Graveling. 

"  Richard  Graveling,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  am 
ashamed  to  think  that  I  ever  let  you  call  yourself 
my  friend!  If  you  do  not  leave  the  room  and  the 
house  at  once,  I  swear  that  I  will  never  speak  to  you 
again  as  long  as  I  live ! " 

He  pushed  her  aside  roughly. 

"  I'll  talk  to  you  presently,"  he  declared.  "  It's 
him  that  my  business  is  with  now." 

Maraton's  eyes  flashed  a  little  dangerously. 

"  Keep  your  hands  off  that  young  lady,"  he 
ordered. 

"  You'd  like  her  to  protect  you,  would  you  ?  " 
Graveling  taunted.  "  Listen  here.  I'm  not  the  sort 
of  man  to  have  my  girl  taken  away  and  made  another 
man's  plaything.  Is  she  going  to  stop  here? 
Answer  me  quickly." 

"  As  long  as  she  chooses,"  Maraton  replied. 

"  Then  take  that !  "  Graveling  shouted. 

Maraton  stepped  lightly  to  one  side.  Graveling 
was  overbalanced  by  his  fierce  blow  into  the  empty 
air.  The  next  moment  he  was  lying  on  his  back,  and 
the  room  seemed  to  be  spinning  around  him.  Mara- 
ton was  standing  with  his  finger  upon  the  bell.  Julia 


328  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

was  by  his  side,  her  eyes  blazing.  She  spoke  never  a 
word,  but  as  Graveling  struggled  back  to  his  senses 
he  could  see  the  scorn  upon  her  face. 

Aaron  and  a  man  servant  entered  the  room  simulta- 
neously. Maraton  pointed  to  the  figure  upon  the 
floor. 

"  Aaron,"  he  said,  "  your  friend  Mr.  Graveling 
has  met  with  a  slight  accident.  You  had  better  take 
him  outside  and  put  him  in  a  taxicab." 

Graveling  rose  painfully  tp  his  feet.  He  was 
very  pale,  and  there  was  blood  upon  his  cheek.  He 
leaned  on  Aaron's  arm  and  he  looked  towards  Mara- 
ton and  Julia. 

"  Better  apologise  and  shake  hands,"  Maraton 
advised  quietly. 

Graveling  seemed  not  to  have  heard  him.  He 
looked  towards  them  both,  and  his  fingers  gripped 
Aaron's  shoulder  so  that  the  young  man  winced  with 
pain.  Then  without  a  single  word  he  turned  towards 
the  door. 

"  Let  him  go !  "  Julia  cried  fiercely.  "  I  am  only 
thankful  that  you  punished  him.  We  do  not  want 
his  apologies.  I  hope  that  I  may  never  see  him 
again !  " 

Graveling,  who  had  reached  the  door,  leaning 
heavily  upon  Aaron,  turned  around.  His  face,  with 
the  streak  of  blood  upon  his  cheek,  was  ghastly.  He 
left  the  room  between  Aaron  and  the  servant.  They 
heard  his  unsteady  footsteps  in  the  hall,  a  whistle, 
the  departure  of  the  cab. 

"  Aaron  has  gone  with  him,"  Maraton  remarked 
quietly.  "  Perhaps  it  is  as  well." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  229 

Her  face  suddenly  relaxed  and  softened.  The 
fury  left  her  eyes ;  she  sank  back  into  the  easy  chair. 

"  I  am  ashamed,"  she  moaned.  "  Oh,  I  am 
ashamed ! " 


CHAPTER  XXV 

The  sound  of  traffic  outside  had  died  away.  The 
silence  became  almost  unnaturally  prolonged.  Only 
the  echo  of  Julia's  last  words  seemed,  somehow  or 
other,  to  remain,  words  which  inspired  Maraton  with 
a  curious  and  indefinable  emotion,  a  pity  which  he 
could  not  altogether  analyse.  Twice  he  had  turned 
softly  as  though  to  leave  the  room,  and  twice  he  had 
returned.  He  stood  now  upon  the  hearthrug,  look- 
ing down  at  her,  perplexed,  himself  in  some  degree 
agitated.  She  was  not  weeping,  although  every  now 
and  then  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  as  though  with  some 
suppressed  storm.  It  was  simply  a  paroxysm  of 
sensitiveness.  She  was  afraid  to  look  up,  afraid  to 
break  a  silence  which  to  her  was  full  of  consolation. 
Maraton,  a  little  ashamed  of  the  scene  in  which  he 
had  been  an  unwilling  participator,  bitterly  self- 
accusing,  still  found  his  thoughts  diverted  from  his 
own  humiliation  as  he  watched  the  girl  —  a  long,  slim 
figure  bent  in  one  strangely  graceful  curve,  her  beau- 
tiful hair  gleaming  in  the  soft  light,  her  face  still 
half  hidden  by  her  strong,  capable  fingers  —  a  figure 
exquisitely  symbolic,  full  of  pathos.  Her  elbows 
rested  upon  her  knees ;  she  was  crouched  a  little  for- 
ward. 

"  Julia !  "  he  ventured  at  last. 

She  looked  up,  without  undue  haste  but  without 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  231 

hesitation.  She  had  obviously  been  waiting  for 
speech  from  him.  He  saw  then  that  his  impression 
had  been  a  true  one.  There  were  no  traces  of  tears 
in  her  eyes,  which  sought  his  at  once  —  sought  his 
with  a  look  which  warned  him  suddenly  of  his  danger. 
Her  cheeks  were  burning;  she  was  still  shaking  with 
some  internal  passion. 

"  After  all,"  he  said  soothingly,  "  there  are  such 
people  in  the  world.  One  can't  ignore  the  fact  of 
their  existence.  They  don't  really  count." 

Her  eyes  flashed. 

"  It  is  terrible  that  they  should  be  allowed  to  live." 

He  smiled  at  her  sympathetically.  Speech  seemed 
somehow  to  lessen  the  tension  between  them. 

*'  My  dear  Julia,"  he  declared,  "  I  am  suffering 
just  as  much  as  you.  I  have  the  feeling  that  I  have 
descended  to  the  level  of  a  common  brawler.  Yet 
what  was  I  to  do?  He  needed  the  lesson  very  badly 
indeed." 

"  I  only  hope  that  it  will  last  him  all  his  life.  I 
only  hope  that  he  will  not  come  near  either  of  us 
again." 

"  Very  doubtful  whether  he  will  want  to,  I  should 
think,"  Maraton  remarked,  leaning  against  the  table. 
"  You  certainly  didn't  mince  your  words." 

"  If  I  could  have  thought  of  harsher  ones,  I  would 
have  used  them,"  she  asserted. 

"  What  a  waste  of  time  it  has  been  this  evening !  " 
He  sighed,  as  his  fingers  turned  over  the  pile  of  let- 
ters by  his  side.  "  What  with  Mr.  Peter  Dale  and 
his  little  deputation,  and  this  idiotic  person  Gravel- 
ing, I  have  scarcely  done  a  thing  since  I  got  home." 


232  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  There's  nothing  that  you  need  do  until  to-mor- 
row," she  told  him  softly. 

There  was  another  brief  pause.  She  was  sitting 
up  now  —  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  indeed  — 
trembling  no  longer,  although  the  colour  still  flamed 
in  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes,  which  seldom  left  his  face, 
were  strangely,  almost  liquidly  soft.  Maraton 
moved  restlessly  in  his  place.  Perhaps  he  had  been 
unwise  not  to  have  stolen  out  of  the  room  during  the 
first  few  moments.  Julia,  as  he  very  well  knew,  was 
no  ordinary  person,  and  he  felt  a  sense  of  growing  un- 
easiness. The  tension  of  silence  became  ominous  and 
he  spoke  simply  to  dissipate  it. 

"  I  hope  I  really  didn't  hurt  the  fellow." 

"  If  you  had  killed  him,"  she  replied,  "  he  deserved 
it!" 

"  He  was  an  insulting  beast,  of  course,"  Maraton 
continued.  "  After  all,  though,  one  mustn't  bring 
oneself  down  to  the  level  of  these  creatures.  He  saw 
with  his  eyes,  and  what  is  seen  from  that  point  of 
view  isn't  of  any  account.  Perhaps  it  isn't  his  fault 
that  he  hasn't  learnt  to  govern  himself.  If  I  were 
you,  Julia,  I  wouldn't  bother  about  it  any  more, 
really." 

"  It  wasn't  altogether  what  he  said,"  she  whispered. 
«  It  wasn't  altogether  that." 

He  looked  at  her  enquiringly. 

"You  mean?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Tell  me?"  he  begged. 

Once  more  he  saw  that  little  quiver  pass  through 
her  frame.  Her  lips  were  parted  and  closed  again. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  233 

Maraton  was  puzzled,  but  did  his  best  to  follow  her 
line  of  thought. 

"  The  only  way  to  treat  such  a  person,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  is  to  treat  him  as  a  lunatic.  That  is  what 
he  really  is.  I  scarcely  heard  what  he  said;  already 
I  have  forgotten  every  word." 

"  But  I  can't !     I  never  can !  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  My  dear  Julia,"  he  protested,  "  I  appeal  to  your 
common  sense ! " 

She  looked  at  him  almost  angrily.  Her  foot  beat 
upon  the  floor. 

"  What  has  common  sense  to  do  with  it ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Of  course,  it  was  a  foolish  thing  to  say. 
He  didn't  even  believe  it  —  I  am  sure  of  that.  It 
was  simply  mad,  insensate  jealousy ;  a  vicious  attempt 
to  make  me  suffer.  That  isn't  where  he  hurt.  It 
was  because  —  shall  I  tell  you  ?  " 

A  sudden  instinct  warned  him.  He  held  out  his 
hand. 

"  It  will  only  distress  you.  No,  I  don't  want  to 
hear." 

The  momentary  silence  seemed  endowed  with 
peculiar  qualities.  They  heard  the  little  clock  tick- 
ing upon  the  mantelpiece,  the  tinkle  of  a  hansom 
bell  outside,  the  muffled  sound  of  motor  horns  in  the 
distance.  Very  slowly  her  head  drooped  back  once 
more  to  the  shelter  of  her  hands. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  she  said  simply.  "  Why 
should  you  ?  I  wasn't  even  angry  —  that  is  the  terri- 
ble part  of  it.  I  wished  —  I  found  myself  wishing  — • 
that  it  were  true ! " 


234  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Maraton's  hands  suddenly  gripped  the  edge  of  the 
table  against  which  he  was  leaning.  Her  face  was 
still  concealed;  once  more  her  long,  slim  body  was 
shaken  with  quivering  sobs. 

"The  shame  of  it!"  she  moaned.  "That  is 
where  he  hurt.  The  shame  of  hearing  it  and  know- 
ing it  wasn't  true  and  of  wanting  it  to  be  true!  I 
haven't  ever  thought  of  any  one  like  that  —  he  knows 
that  well  enough.  He  used  to  call  me  sexless. 
There  isn't  any  man  in  the  world  has  ever  dared  to 
touch  my  lips  —  he  knows  it." 

Maraton  left  his  place  and  quietly  approached 
her.  She  heard  him  coming,  and  the  trembling 
gradually  ceased.  He  sat  on  the  arm  of  her  chair, 
and  his  hand  rested  gently  upon  her  shoulder. 

"  Dear  Julia,"  he  said,  "  I  am  glad  that  you  have 
been  honest.  Life  is  always  full  of  these  emotions, 
you  know,  especially  for  highly-strung  people,  and 
sometimes  the  atmosphere  gets  a  little  overcharged 
and  they  blaze  out  as  they  have  done  this  evening, 
and  perhaps  one  is  the  better  for  it." 

She  remained  quite  motionless  during  his  brief 
pause.  One  hand  had  moved  from  before  her  face 
and  had  gripped  his. 

"  There's  our  work,  you  know,  Julia,"  he  went 
on.  "  There  isn't  anything  in  the  world  must  inter- 
fere with  that.  We  can't  divide  our  lives,  can  we? 
We  ought  not  to  want  to.  If  I  could  make  you 
understand  —  can  I,  I  wonder  ?  —  how  splendid  it 
is  to  have  some  one  here  by  my  side  who  understands. 
It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  going  to  be  a  little  lonely. 
I  shall  have  to  stand  on  my  own  feet  a  good  deal.  I 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  235 

rely  so  much  upon  you,  Julia.  You  are  a  woman, 
aren't  you  —  I  mean  a  real  woman  ?  I  need  you." 

Very  slowly  she  raised  her  head.  Her  eyes  met 
his  freely.  There  was  something  of  the  childlike 
adoration  of  an  instinctive  and  triumphant  purity  in 
the  smile  which  parted  her  lips.  Maraton  understood 
at  once  that  the  danger  was  past.  The  thunder  had 
left  the  air. 

"  You  know  that  I  am  your  slave,"  she  murmured. 
"  Don't  be  afraid  that  I  am  becoming  neurotic.  You 
see,  this  was  all  a  little  new  to  me,  and  for  a  moment 
I  felt  that  I  wanted  to  go  and  hide  myself.  That 
has  all  passed  now.  I  am  not  even  ashamed.  I 
suppose  one  gets  terrified  with  receiving  so  much, 
and  wants  to  give.  It's  a  very  natural  feminine 
impulse,  isn't  it?  And  I  shall  give  —  my  fingers, 
my  brain  —  all  I  possess." 

She  rose  suddenly  to  her  feet  and  glanced  at  the 
clock. 

"  What  a  day  you  must  have  had !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  You  are  not  going  to  look  at  my  Sheffield  figures, 
even,  before  the  morning.  Oh,  .you'll  be  surprised 
when  you  see  them!  You've  a  wonderful  case. 
Some  of  the  fortunes  that  have  been  made  there  — 
that  are  being  made  there  now  —  are  barbaric.  I 
mustn't  talk  about  it,  or  I  shall  get  angry.  Listen, 
there's  Aaron." 

They  heard  the  sound  of  his  latch-key.  A  mo* 
ment  later  he  entered  the  room.  He  looked  anxiously 
at  Maraton ;  Julia  he  scarcely  noticed. 

"  I  took  him  home,"  he  announced.  "  He  never 
spoke  a  word  the  whole  way;  seemed  stupid.  I 


236  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  hadn't  gat  a  little  con- 
cussion." 

"  Did  you  send  for  a  doctor  ?  "  Maraton  asked. 

"  His  landlady  was  going  to  do  that,"  Aaron  con- 
tinued. "  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  sit  in  the  cab  by 
his  side.  I  wish  —  yes,  I  almost  wish  that  he'd  never 
got  up  from  that  carpet." 

"  Thanks,"  Maraton  replied.  "  I  didn't  come 
over  here  to  fill  the  inside  of  an  English  prison ! " 

"Prison!" 

Aaron's  expression  of  contempt  was  sublime. 

"  There's  nothing  they  could  have  done  to  you, 
sir.  All  the  same,  I  only  wish  that  your  blow  had 
killed  him." 

"Why?" 

Aaron  dropped  his  voice  for  a  minute. 

"  Because  wherever  we  go  or  move,"  he  said,  "  there 
will  always  be  the  snake  in  the  grass.  He  will  be 
filled  forever  with  a  poisonous  hatred  for  you.  He 
will  never  dare  to  raise  his  hand  against  you  to  your 
face  —  he  isn't  that  sort  of  man  —  but  he'll  have  his 
stab  before  he's  finished.  He  was  born  a  sneak." 

Maraton  smiled  carelessly  as  he  bade  them  good 
night. 

"  The  one  thing  in  the  world,"  he  reminded  them, 
"  worse  than  having  no  friends,  is  to  have  no 
enemies." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

Eight  days  later,  Maraton  delivered  his  prelimi- 
nary address  to  the  ironworkers  of  Sheffield,  and  at 
six  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  strike  had  been 
unanimously  proclaimed.  The  columns  of  the  daily 
newspapers,  still  hopelessly  bound  over  to  the  inter- 
ests of  the  capitalist,  were  full  of  solemn  warnings 
against  this  new  and  disturbing  force  in  English 
sociology.  The  Dally  Oracle  alone  paused  to  present 
a  few  words  of  appreciation  of  the  splendid  dramatic 
force  wielded  by  this  revolutionary. 

"  If  this  man  is  sincere,"  the  Oracle  declared,  "  the 
country  needs  him.  If  he  is  a  charlatan,  then  for 
heaven's  sake,  even  at  the  expense  of  all  the  laws  that 
were  ever  framed,  away  with  him !  There  is  no  man 
breathing  to-day  who  is  developing  a  more  potent, 
a  more  wide-reaching  influence  upon  the  destinies  of 
our  country." 

Maraton's  first  address  had  been  delivered  to  a 
great  multitude,  but  there  was  no  building  whose 
roof  could  cover  the  hordes  of  men  who  had  made  up 
their  minds  to  hear  his  last  words  at  Sheffield.  From 
far  and  wide,  the  people  came  that  night  in  countless 
streams.  A  platform  had  been  arranged  in  the 
middle  of  the  principal  pleasure  park  of  the  town, 
and  around  this,  from  early  in  the  afternoon,  they 
began  to  take  up  their  places.  When  night  fell,  so 


238  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

far  as  the  eye  could  see,  the  ground  was  covered  with 
a  black  mass  of  humanity.  The  multitude  filled  the 
park  and  crowded  up  the  encircling  streets.  As  the 
darkness  deepened,  they  lit  torches.  Beyond,  down 
in  the  valley  and  up  on  the  hillside,  were  rows  of 
lights  and  the  flare  of  furnaces  scon  to  be  quenched. 
Even  that  little  group  of  hard,  unimaginative  men 
who  stood  with  Maraton  upon  the  platform  felt  the 
strange  thrill  of  the  tense  and  swelling  throng  gath- 
ered together  with  this  inspiring  background. 

It  seemed  to  Maraton  himself,  as  he  stood  there 
listening  to  the  roar  of  welcoming  voices,  as  though 
all  their  white  faces  were  gathered  into  one,  the 
prototype  of  suffering  humanity,  the  sad,  hollow- 
cheeked,  hollow-eyed  victim  of  birth  and  heritage. 
His  voice  seemed  to  swell  that  night  to  something 
greater  than  its  usual  volume;  some  peculiar  gift 
of  penetration  seemed  to  have  been  accorded  him.  A 
hundred  thousand  men  heard  his  passionate  prayer  to 
them.  They  were  hard-featured,  hard-minded  York- 
shiremen,  most  of  them,  but  they  never  forgot. 

"  You  will  get  the  half  a  crown  a  week  which  your 
leaders  demand,"  Maraton  told  them.  "  Your  mas- 
ters —  may  God  forgive  me  for  using  the  word !  — 
will  pay  to  that  extent.  But  —  if  there  is  any  jus- 
tice beyond  this  world,  how,  indeed,  will  they  meet 
the  debt  built  upon  your  sufferings,  your  cramped 
lives,  and  the  graves  of  your  little  children.  That 
half  a  crown  a  week,  I  say,  will  come  to  you.  Don't 
dare,  any  of  you,  to  be  satisfied  when  it  does  come.  It 
isn't  a  few  shillings  only  that  are  owing  to  you.  It's 
another  social  system,  a  rearrangement  of  your 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  239 

whole  scheme  of  life,  under  which  you  and  your  chil- 
dren, and  your  children's  children,  may  live  with  the 
dignity  and  freedom  due  to  that  strange  and  common 
gift  of  life  which  beats  in  your  pulses  and  in  mine. 
I  am  here  to-night  to  show  you  the  way  to  that  extra 
half-crown,  but  I  don't  want  you  for  one  moment 
to  think  that  these  small  increases  in  wages  represent , 
the  end  and  aim  of  myself  and  those  who  share  my 
beliefs.  Your  day  may  not  see  it,  nor  mine,  but 
history  for  the  last  thousand  years  has  shown  us  the 
slow  emancipation  of  the  peoples  of  the  world. 
There  are  many  rungs  in  the  ladder  yet  to  be  climbed. 
Your  children  may  have  to  take  up  the  burden  where 
you  have  left  it.  A  revolution  may  be  necessary, 
sorrows  innumerable  may  lie  between  you  and  the 
goal  of  your  class.  And  yet  I  bid  you  hope.  I 
plead  with  each  one  of  you  to  remember  that  he  is 
not  only  an  individual ;  that  he  is  a  unit  of  humanity, 
that  he  is  the  progenitor  of  unborn  children,  a  force 
from  which  will  spring  the  happier  and  the  freer 
generation,  if  not  in  our  time,  in  the  days  to  come." 

He  passed  on  to  speak  for  a  few  moments  about 
the  reconstituted  state  of  Society,  which  was  his 
favourite  theme,  and  from  that  to  a  peroration  unpre- 
pared—  fiercely,  passionately  eloquent.  When  he 
had  finished  speaking,  the  air  seemed  curiously  dull 
and  lifeless ;  an  extraordinary  silence,  like  the  silence 
before  a  thunderstorm,  brooded  over  the  place. 
Then  the  human  sea  broke  its  bounds.  The  smut- 
blackened  trees  quivered  with  the  thunder  of  their 
voices.  Showers  of  sparks  rose  into  the  air  from 
the  torches  they  waved.  It  was  a  pandemonium  of^ 


240  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

sound.  They  came  on  like  a  mighty  flood,  before 
whose  force  the  dam  has  suddenly  yielded.  The 
platform  was  crushed  like  a  nutshell  before  their 
onslaught.  They  were  mad  with  a  great  enthusiasm, 
beside  themselves  with  a  passion  stirred  only  in  such 
men  once  or  twice  in  a  lifetime.  The  roar  of  their 
voices,  as  they  shouted  his  name,  reached  even  to  the 
station,  to  which  Maraton  had  been  smuggled  secretly 
in  a  fast  motor-car  —  a  disappearance  which  a  great 
journalist  on  the  next  morning  alluded  to  as  the  one 
supremely  dramatic  touch  in  a  night  of  wonders. 
The  roar  of  voices  indeed  was  still  in  his  ears  as  he 
stood  before  the  window  of  his  compartment,  look- 
ing out  over  the  fire-hung  city  with  its  vaporous 
flames,  its  huge  furnaces,  its  glare  which  was  already 
becoming  fainter.  A  myriad  lights  still  twinkled 
upon  the  hillsides;  the  smoke-stained  sky  was  red 
with  the  reflection  of  those  thousand  torches.  Even 
as  the  train  rushed  on  into  the  darkness,  he  could 
hear  the  echo  of  their  cry  as  they  sought  for  him. 

"  Maraton !     Maraton !  " 

He  threw  himself  at  last  into  a  corner  seat  of  his 
compartment,  and  conscious  of  a  somewhat  rare  phys- 
ical exhaustion,  he  rang  the  bell  for  the  attendant  and 
ordered  refreshments.  The  evening  papers  were  by 
his  side,  but  he  had  no  fancy  to  read.  The  thrill  of 
the  last  few  hours  was  still  upon  him.  He  sat  with 
folded  arms,  looking  idly  through  the  window  at  the 
chaotic  prospect.  Suddenly  he  was  aware  that  the 
door  of  his  compartment  had  been  opened.  A  man 
had  entered  and  was  taking  the  seat  opposite  to  him, 
a  man  whose  appearance  struck  Maraton  at  once  as 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  241 

being  vaguely  familiar,  a  man  who  smiled  at  him  al- 
most with  the  air  of  an  old  acquaintance. 

"  You  don't  recognise  me,  I  can  see,"  the  newcomer 
said,  smiling  slightly,  "  yet  we  ought  to  know  one 
another." 

Maraton  looked  at  the  intruder  curiously.  It  was, 
in  many  respects,  a  remarkable  face ;  a  low,  heavy 
forehead ;  eyes  in  which  shone  the  unmistakable  light ; 
broad,  firm  mouth ;  fair  hair,  left  unusually  long.  In 
figure  the  man  was  short  and  stout.  His  collar  had 
parted,  and  a  black  bow  of  unusual  size  was  drooping 
from  his  shoulder.  He  was  slightly  out  of  breath, 
too,  as  though  he  had  but  recently  recovered  from 
some  strenuous  exercise. 

"  I  will  save  you  from  speculations  —  I  am  Henry 
Selingman,"  he  pronounced. 

Maraton  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Selingman !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  your  photo- 
graphs, of  course,  then.  We  have  never  met." 

"  Never  until  to-night,"  Selingman  admitted. 
"  When  I  heard  that  you  were  in  England,  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  come  over.  To-night  seemed  to  me  pro- 
pitious. I  wanted  to  understand  this  marvellous 
power  of  yours  of  which  so  many  people  have  written. 
Nothing  has  been  exaggerated.  The  message  which  I 
have  struggled  to  deliver  to  the  world  through  my 
poetry,  my  plays,  such  prose  as  I  have  ventured  upon, 
you  yourself  can  tear  from  your  heart  and  throw  to 
the  people's  own  ears.  .  .  .  Forgive  me  —  I,  too, 
will  smoke.  I  will  drink  wine,  also,"  he  added,  ring- 
ing the  bell.  "  I  had  a  dozen  friends  to  help  me,  but 
every  bone  in  my  body  aches  with  the  struggle  to 


242  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

escape.  You  maddened  them,  those  people.  It  was 
magnificent." 

He  ordered  champagne  from  the  attendant  and  be- 
gan to  smoke  a  long  black  cigar,  nervously  and 
quickly. 

"  To-night  I  shall  write  of  this,"  he  went  on.  "  I 
have  lived  for  forty-five  years  and  I  have  hunted  all 
over  the  world,  and  in  my  study  I  have  conjured  up  all 
the  visions  a  man  may,  but  never  yet  has  there  been 
anything  like  this.  The  black  hillside  a  mass  of  soft 
black  velvet,  jewelled  like  a  woman's  gown,  the  red 
fires  from  the  blasting  furnaces,  the  shower  of  sparks 
from  a  thousand  torches,  the  glow  upon  the  fog- 
poisoned  sky,  those  faces  —  God,  how  white !  Never 
in  my  life  have  I  seen  the  writing  of  the  finger  of  the 
Messiah  as  I  saw  it  to-night !  It  has  been  the  hour 
of  a  lifetime.  Maraton,  over  there,  man,  our  toilers 
are  toilers  indeed,  but  not  like  that.  It  isn't  stamped 
into  them.  No,  they're  not  branded." 

"  Over  there  ?  "  Maraton  repeated. 

"  Belgium,  Germany,"  Selingman  continued, — 
"  Germany  chiefly.  Our  Socialism  has  done  better  for 
us  than  that.  It  has  kindled  a  little  fire  in  the  heart  of 
the  men,  and  from  its  warmth  has  sprung  something 
of  that  self-respect  which  will  be  the  seed  of  the  new 
humanity.  I  want  you  over  there,  Maraton.  I  want 
to  show  you.  Your  heart  will  warm  with  joy.  God, 
what  food  for  hell  are  your  manufacturers  here! 
How  they'll  burn!" 

"  The  curse  of  England  is  its  terrible  middle  class," 
Maraton  said  slowly.  "  The  present  generation  is 
the  first  even  to  dimly  realise  it.  Our  aristocracy  is 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  243 

no  better  nor  any  worse  than  the  aristocracy  of  other 
nations ;  rather  better,  perhaps,  than  worse.  But  our 
middle  class  rules  the  land.  They  represent  the  vot- 
ing power.  They  conceal  their  real  sentiments  under 
the  name  of  Liberalism,  they  keep  their  heel  upon  the 
neck  of  Labour.  I  tell  you,  when  the  revolution 
comes,  it  will  be  Hampstead  and  Kensington  the  mob 
will  sack  and  burn,  not  Park  Lane  and  Grosvenor 
Square." 

"  You're  right,"  Selingman  agreed ;  "  of  course 
you're  right.  You  and  I  make  no  mistakes.  We  are 
of  the  order  of  those  whose  eyes  were  touched  in  the 
cradle.  Maraton,  sometimes  I  am  sorry  I'm  an  artist ; 
sometimes  I  loathe  this  sense  of  beauty  which  drives 
my  pen  into  the  pleasanter  ways.  There's  only  one 
thing  in  the  world  for  you  and  me  to  work  for.  The 
world  to-day  doesn't  deserve  the  offerings  of  the  artist 
until  it  has  purged  itself.  I  waste  my  time  writing 
plays,  but  then,  after  all,  I  am  not  English.  If 
those  were  my  people,  Maraton,  I  doubt  whether  my 
pen  could  ever  have  wandered  even  for  a  moment  into 
the  pleasant  ways." 

Maraton  sighed. 

"  There  is  America,  too,"  he  groaned. 

"  A  conglomeration,"  Selingman  declared  hastily, 
"  not  to  be  reckoned  with  yet  as  a  nation.  What  is 
born  amongst  the  older  peoples  must  find  its  way  there 
by  natural  law.  It  is  not  a  country  for  commence- 
ments. England  —  it  is  England  where  the  harvest 
is  ripe.  What  are  you  doing,  man  ?  " 

Maraton  looked  thoughtfully  out  of  the  window. 
The  train  was  gathering  speed;  they  were  travelling 


244  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

now  at  a  great  pace.  Outside,  the  twilight  was  fad- 
ing. A  black  cloud  had  passed  across  the  rising 
moon.  The  electric  light  illuminated  the  carriage. 
It  was  almost  as  though  they  were  passing  through  a 
tunnel. 

"  You  ask  me  almost  the  saddest  question  one  could 
ask,"  he  replied  gently.  "  I  am  working  for  pos- 
terity. There  is  no  other  course.  I  called  those  peo- 
ple together  to-night  at  Sheffield  for  the  sake  of  half 
a  crown  a  week  extra  wages.  It  will  make  life  a  little 
easier  for  them,  and  I  suppose  every  atom  of  pros- 
perity must  count  in  the  sum  of  their  future  and  their 
children's  future." 

"  Spent  in  beer,  most  likely,"  Selingman  muttered. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  Maraton  exclaimed.  "  The  posses- 
sion of  money  to  spend  in  luxuries  of  any  sort  must 
add  something,  at  least,  to  their  dignity.  It  means  a 
lightening  of  the  heart  for  a  moment,  an  impulse  of 
gladness.  Why  should  we  judge?  Beer  is  only  a 
prototype  of  other  things.  Then,  Selingman,  mark 
this.  I  brought  the  men  of  Lancashire  out  on  strike 
some  few  weeks  ago,  and  Sheffield  now  is  following 
suit.  It  is  a  matter  of  a  few  shillings  a  week  only, 
it  is  true,  but  I  am  very  careful  to  tell  them  always 
that  it  is  simply  a  compromise  which  I  am  advocating. 
These  small  increases  are  nothing.  The  operatives 
have  a  nature-given  right  to  a  share  in  the  product 
of  their  labour.  In  these  days  their  slave  hire  is 
thrown  at  them  by  an  interloping  person  who  calls 
himself  an  employer.  In  the  days  to  come  it  will 
be  different." 

"  You  beat  time,  then !  "  Selingman  cried.     "  You 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  245 

head  the  waves !  My  friend  Maraton,  they  are  right, 
those  who  turned  me  out  of  my  villa  at  Versailles  and 
sent  me  over  to  you.  They  were  right,  indeed!  I 
have  business  with  you,  man  —  an  inspiration  to 
share.  Ours  is  a  great  meeting.  You  know  Maxen- 
dorf?" 

"  By  name,"  Maraton  admitted,  a  little  startled. 

"  A  profound  thinker,"  Selingman  declared,  "  a 
mighty  thinker,  a  giant,  a  pioneer.  I  tell  you  that 
he  sees,  Maraton.  He  has  pitched  his  tent  upon  the 
hill-top.  What  do  you  know  of  him  ?  " 

"  Chiefly,"  Maraton  replied,  "  that  he  is  an  aristo- 
crat, a  diplomatist,  and  the  future  ambassador  here 
of  a  country  I  do  not  love." 

Selingman  drained  a  glass  of  champagne  before  he 
answered.  He  lit  another  of  his  long,  thin  cigars  and 
smoked  furiously. 

"  Aristocrat  —  yes,"  he  assented,  "  but  you  do  not 
know  Ma^ndorf.  He  will  be  a  joy  to  you,  man. 
Oh,  he  sees !  The  day  of  the  millions  is  coming,  and 
he  knows  it.  On  the  Continent  our  middle  class  isn't 
like  yours.  The  conflict  will  never  be  so  terrible. 
Thank  God,  our  Labour  stands  already  with  its  feet 
upon  the  ground.  With  us,  development  is  all  that  is 
necessary.  But  you  —  you  are  up  against  a  cul-de- 
sac,  a  black  mountain  of  prejudice  and  custom.  Noth- 
ing can  save  you  but  an  earthquake  or  a  revolution, 
and  you  know  it.  You  came  to  England  with  those 
ideas,  Maraton.  You  have  turned  opportunist.  It 
was  the  only  thing  left  for  you.  You  didn't  happen 
to  see  the  one  way  out.  To-morrow  it  will  be  a  new 
day  with  you.  To-morrow  we  will  show  you." 


246  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

They  were  rushing  into  London  now.  Selingman 
rose  to  his  feet. 

"  At  seven  o'clock  to-morrow  I  shall  fetch  you,'* 
he  announced,  "  that  is,  if  I  do  not  come  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  may  come  before  —  I  may  give  you  the  whole 
day  for  your  own.  I  make  no  promise.  Your  ad- 
dress —  write  it  down.  I  have  no  memory." 

Maraton  wrote  it  and  passed  it  over.  Selingman 
thrust  it  into  his  pocket. 

"  I  go  to  work,"  he  cried.  "  Some  part  of  the 
genius  of  your  voice  shall  tremble  to-morrow  in  the 
genius  of  my  prose.  I  promise  you  that.  *  Listen,' 
our  friend  Maxendorf  would  say, '  to  the  vainest  man 
in  Europe ! '  But  I  know.  No  man  knows  himself 
save  himself.  Adieu ! " 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

The  lengthy  reports  of  his  Sheffield  visit  and 
speeches,  of  which  the  newspapers  made  great  capital, 
an  extraordinary  impression  of  the  same  in  Seling- 
man's  wonderful  prose,  and  the  caprice  of  a  halfpenny 
paper,  made  Maraton  suddenly  the  most  talked  about 
man  in  England.  A  notoriety  which  he  would  have 
done  much  to  have  avoided  was  forced  upon  him. 
Early  on  the  morning  following  his  return,  his  house 
was  besieged  with  a  little  stream  of  journalists,  pho- 
tographers, politicians,  men  and  women  of  all  orders 
and  degrees,  seeking  for  a  few  moments^  interview 
with  the  man  of  the  hour.  Maraton  retreated  pre- 
cipitately into  his  smaller  study  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  and  left  Aaron  to  cope  as  well  as  he  might  with 
the  assailing  host.  Every  now  and  then  the  telephone 
bell  rang,  and  Aaron  made  his  report. 

"  There  are  fourteen  men  here  who  want  to  inter- 
view you,"  he  announced,  "  all  from  good  papers. 
If  you  won't  be  interviewed,  some  of  them  want  a 
photograph." 

"  Send  them  away,"  Maraton  directed.  "  Tell 
them  the  only  photograph  I  ever  had  taken  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  Chicago  police." 

"  There's  the  editor  here  himself  from  the  Bir 
Weekly." 


248  A   PEOPLE'S    MAN 

"  My  compliments  and  excuses,"  Maraton  replied. 
"  I  will  be  interviewed  by  no  one." 

"  There's  a  representative  from  the  Oracle  here," 
Aaron  continued,  "  who  wants  to  know  your  exact 
position  in  connection  with  the  Labour  Party.  What 
shall  I  say?" 

"  Tell  him  to  apply  to  Mr.  Dale ! "  Maraton  an- 
swered. 

"  Mr.  Foley  and  Lady  Elisabeth  Landon  are  out- 
side in  a  car.  Mr.  Foley's  compliments,  and  if  you 
could  spare  a  moment,  they  would  be  glad  to  come  in 
and  see  you." 

Maraton  hesitated. 

"  You  had  better  let  them  come  in." 

"  Shall  I  go?  "  Julia  asked. 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"Stay  where  you  are,"  he  enjoined.  "Perhaps 
they  will  go  sooner,  if  they  see  that  I  am  at  work  with 
you." 

Mr.  Foley  was  in  his  best  and  happiest  mood.  He 
shook  hands  heartily  with  Maraton.  Elisabeth  said 
nothing  at  all,  but  Maraton  was  conscious  of  one 
swift  look  into  his  eyes,  and  of  the  fact  that  her 
fingers  rested  in  his  several  seconds  longer  than  was 
necessary. 

"  We  are  profoundly  mortified,  both  my  niece  and 
I,"  Mr.  Foley  said.  "  Never  have  I  had  so  many 
journalists  on  my  doorstep,  even  on  that  notorious 
Thursday  when  they  thought  that  I  was  going  to 
declare  war.  I  really  fancy,  Maraton,  that  they  are 
going  to  make  a  celebrity  of  you.  Have  you  seen  the 
papers  ?  " 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  249 

"  I  have  read  Selingman's  sketch,"  Maraton  re- 
plied. 

"  They  say,"  Mr.  Foley  went  on,  "  that  he  wrote 
all  night  at  the  office  in  Fleet  Street,  and  that  his 
sheets  were  flung  into  type  as  he  wrote  them.  Seling- 
man,  too  —  the  great  Selingman!  You  know  him?  " 

"  He  travelled  down  from  Sheffield  with  me  last 
night,"  Maraton  answered. 

"  A  more  dangerous  person  even  than  you,"  Mr. 
Foley  observed,  "  and  an  Anglophobe.  Never  mind, 
what  did  we  call  about,  Elisabeth  ?  " 

"  Well,  we  were  really  on  our  way  to  the  city,"  his 
niece  reminded  him.  "  It  was  you  who  suggested, 
when  we  were  at  the  top  of  the  Square,  that  we  should 
call  in  and  see  Mr.  Maraton." 

"  There  was  something  in  my  mind,"  Mr.  Foley 
persisted.  "  I  remember.  Next  Friday  is  the  last 
day  of  the  session,  you  know,  Mr.  Maraton.  We 
want  you  to  go  down  to  Scotland  with  us  for  a  week." 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  he  said,  "  but  I  shall  take 
no  holiday.  I  need  none.  I  have  endless  work  here 
during  the  vacation.  There  are  some  industries  I 
have  scarcely  looked  into  at  all.  And  there  is  my 
Bill,  and  the  draft  of  another  one  to  follow.  Thank 
you  very  much,  Mr.  Foley,  all  the  same." 

Elisabeth  set  down  the  illustrated  paper  which  she 
had  picked  up.  She  looked  across  at  Maraton. 

"  Don't  you  think  for  one  week,  Mr.  Maraton," 
she  suggested  softly,  "  that  you  could  bring  your 
work  with  you.  You  could  have  a  study  in  a  quiet 
corner  of  the  house,  and  if  you  did  not  care  to  bring 


250  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

a  secretary,  I  would  promise  you  the  services  of  an 
amateur  one." 

Perhaps  by  accident,  as  she  spoke,  she  glanced 
across  at  Julia,  and  perhaps  by  accident  Julia  at  that 
moment  happened  to  glance  up.  Their  eyes  met. 
Julia,  from  the  grim  loneliness  of  her  own  world, 
looked  steadfastly  at  this  exquisite  type  of  the  things 
in  life  which  she  hated. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  Maraton  repeated,  "  but  in- 
deed I  must  not  think  of  it.  It  seems  to  me,"  he  went 
on,  after  a  slight  hesitation,  "  that  every  time  lately 
when  I  have  stood  at  the  halting  of  two  ways,  and 
have  had  to  make  up  my  mind  which  to  follow,  I  have 
been  forced  by  circumstances  to  choose  the  easier  way. 
This  time,  at  least,  my  duty  is  quite  plain.  I  have 
work  to  do  in  London  which  I  cannot  neglect." 

Elisabeth  picked  up  the  paper  which  she  had  set 
down  the  moment  before.  Her  eyes  had  been  quick 
to  appreciate  the  smothered  fierceness  of  Julia's  gaze. 
At  Maraton  she  did  not  glance. 

"  Well,  I  am  sorry,"  Mr.  Foley  said.  "  You  are  a 
young  man  now,  Maraton,  but  one  works  the  better 
for  a  change.  I  didn't  come  to  talk  shop,  but  you've 
set  a  nice  hornet's  nest  about  our  heads  up  in  Shef- 
field." 

"  There  are  many  more  to  follow,"  Maraton  as- 
sured him. 

Mr.  Foley  chuckled.  His  sense  of  humour  was  in- 
domitable. 

"  If  there  is  one  thing  in  the  Press  this  morning," 
he  declared,  "  more  pronounced  than  the  diatribes 
upon  your  speech,  it  is  the  number  of  compliments 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  251 

paid  to  me  for  my  perspicuity  in  extending  the  hand 
of  friendship  to  the  most  dangerous  political  factor 
at  present  existent, —  vide  the  Oracle.  I've  wasted 
many  hours  arguing  with  some  of  my  colleagues.  If 
I  had  known  what  was  coming,  I  might  just  as  well 
have  sat  tight  and  waited  for  to-day.  I  am  vindi- 
cated, whitewashed.  Only  the  Opposition  are  furious. 
They  are  trying  to  claim  you  as  a  natural  member  of 
the  Radical  Party.  Shouldn't  be  surprised  if  they 
didn't  approach  you  to-day  sometime." 

Maraton  smiled. 

"  The  people  I  am  in  the  most  disgrace  with,"  h« 
observed,  "  are  my  own  little  lot." 

"  That  needn't  worry  you,"  Mr.  Foley  rejoined. 
*'  Our  Labour  Members  are  not  a  serious  body.  The 
forces  they  represent  are  all  right,  but  they  seem  to 
have  a  perfectly  devilish  gift  of  selecting  the  wrong 
representatives.  .  .  .  You'll  be  in  the  House  this 
afternoon  ?  " 

"Certainly!" 

"  I  shall  be  rather  curious  to  see  what  sort  of  a 
reception  they  give  you,"  Mr.  Foley  continued. 
"  You  couldn't  manage  to  walk  in  with  me,  I  suppose  ? 
It  would  mean  such  a  headline  for  the  Daily  Oracle!  " 

Elisabeth  glanced  up  from  her  paper. 

"  I  am  afraid,  uncle,"  she  remarked,  "  that  Punch 
was  right  when  it  said  that  your  sense  of  humour 
would  always  prevent  your  becoming  a  great  poli- 
tician." 

"  Let  Punch  wait  until  I  claim  the  title,"  Mr.  Foley 
retorted,  smiling.  "  No  man  has  ever  consented  to  be 
Premier  who  was  a  great  politician  —  in  these  days, 


252  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

at  any  rate.  I  doubt,  even,  whether  our  friend  Mara- 
ton  would  be  a  successful  Premier.  I  fancy  that  if 
ever  he  aspires  so  high,  it  will  be  to  the  Dictatorship 
of  the  new  republic." 

Maraton  sighed. 

"  Even  the  Oracle"  he  reminded  them,  "  is  con- 
vinced that  I  have  no  personal  ambitions." 

Mr.  Foley  took  up  his  hat.  He  had  been  in  high 
good  humour  throughout  the  interview.  Already  he 
was  looking  forward  to  meeting  his  colleagues. 

"  Well,  we'll  be  off,  Maraton,"  he  said.  "  We  had 
no  right  to  come  and  disturb  you  at  this  time  in  the 
morning,  only  we  were  really  anxious  to  book  you 
for  our  quiet  week  in  Scotland.  Change  your  mind 
about  it,  there's  a  good  fellow.  I  shall  be  your  help- 
less prey  up  there.  You  could  make  of  me  what  you 
would." 

Maraton  shook  his  head  very  firmly. 

"  It  is  not  possible,"  he  answered.  "  Please  do  not 
think  that  I  do  not  appreciate  your  hospitality  —  and 
your  kindness,  Lady  Elisabeth." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  rather  curiously. 
There  was  something  of  reproach  in  her  eyes;  some- 
thing, too,  which  he  failed  to  understand.  She  did 
not  speak  at  all. 

"  Miss  Thurnbrein,"  Maraton  begged,  "  will  you 
see  Mr.  Foley  and  Lady  Elisabeth  out?  It  sounds 
cowardly,  doesn't  it,"  he  added,  "  but  I  really  don't 
think  that  I  dare  show  myself." 

Julia  rose  slowly  to  her  feet  and  passed  towards 
the  door,  which  Maraton  was  holding  open.  She 
lingered  outside  while  Maraton  shook  hands  with  his 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  253 

two  visitors,  then  would  have  hurried  on  in  advance, 
but  that  Elisabeth  stopped  her. 

"  Do  tell  me,"  she  asked,  "  you  are  the  Miss  Thurn- 
brein  who  has  written  so  much  upon  woman  labour, 
aren't  you?  " 

"  I  have  written  one  or  two  articles,"  Julia  replied, 
looking  straight  ahead  of  her. 

"  I  read  one  in  the  National  Review"  Elisabeth  con- 
tinued, "  and  another  in  one  of  the  evening  papers. 
I  can't  tell  you,  Miss  Thurnbrein,  how  interested  I 
was." 

Julia  turned  and  looked  slowly  at  her  questioner. 
Her  cheeks  seemed  more  pallid  than  usual,  her  eyes 
were  full  of  smouldering  fire. 

"  I  didn't  write  to  interest  people,"  she  said  calmly. 
**  I  wrote  to  punish  them,  to  let  them  know  a  little  of 
what  they  were  guilty." 

"  But  surely,"  Elisabeth  protested,  "  you  make 
some  excuse  for  those  who  have  really  no  opportunity 
for  finding  out?  There  is  a  society  now,  I  am  told, 
for  watching  over  the  conditions  of  woman  labour  in 
the  east  end.  Is  that  so  really  ?  " 

"  There  is  such  a  society,"  Julia  admitted.  "  I  am 
the  secretary  of  it." 

"  You  must  let  me  join,"  Elisabeth  begged. 
"  Please  do.  Won't  you  come  and  see  me  one  after- 
noon—  any  afternoon  —  and  tell  me  all  about  it? 
Indeed  I  am  in  earnest,"  she  went  on,  a  little  puzzled 
at  the  other's  unresponsiveness.  "  This  isn't  just  a 
whim.  I  am  really  interested  in  these  matters,  but 
it  is  so  hard  to  help,  unless  one  is  put  in  the  right 
way." 


254  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  The  time  has  passed,"  Julia  pronounced,  "  when 
patronage  is  of  any  assistance  to  such  societies  as  the 
one  we  were  speaking  of.  Nothing  is  of  any  use 
now  but  hard,  grim  work.  We  don't  want  money. 
We  don't  need  support  of  any  kind  whatever.  We 
need  work  and  brains." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  Elisabeth  said,  as  she  held  out  her 
hand,  "  that  you  think  I  am  incapable  of  either." 

Julia's  lips  were  tightly  compressed.  She  made 
no  reply.  Mr.  Foley  glanced  back  at  her  curiously 
as  they  stepped  into  the  car. 

"  What  a  singularly  forbidding  young  woman ! " 
he  remarked. 

Elisabeth  shrugged  her  shoulders.  It  is  given  to 
women  to  understand  much !  .  .  .  The  car  glided  off. 
As  they  neared  the  corner  of  the  Square,  they  passed  a 
stout,  foreign-looking  man  with  an  enormous  head,  a 
soft  grey  hat  set  far  back,  a  quantity  of  fair  hair,  and 
the  ingenuous,  eager  look  of  a  child.  He  was  hurry- 
ing towards  the  corner  house  and  scarcely  glanced  in 
their  direction.  Mr.  Foley,  however,  leaned  forward 
with  interest. 

"Who  is  that  strange-looking  person?  "  Elisabeth 
'asked. 

Mr.  Foley  became  impressive. 

"  One  of  the  greatest  writers  and  philosophers  of 
the  day,"  he  replied.  "  I  expect  he  is  on  his  way 
to  see  Maraton.  That  was  Henry  Selingman." 


CHAPTER  XXVHI 

Selingman  took  little  heed  of  the  cordon  around 
Maraton.  He  brushed  them  all  to  one  side,  and 
when  at  last  confronted  by  the  final  barrier,  in  the 
shape  of  Julia,  he  only  patted  her  gently  upon  the 
back. 

"  Ah,  but  my  dear  child,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  do 
not  understand!  Listen.  I  raise  my  voice,  I  shout 
—  like  this  — *  Maraton,  it  is  I  who  am  here  —  Seling- 
man ! '  You  see,  he  will  come  if  he  is  within  hearing. 
You  know  of  me,  you  pale-faced  child?  You  have 
heard  of  Selingman,  is  it  not  so?  " 

Before  Julia  could  answer,  the  door  of  the  study 
was  opened. 

"  Come  in,"  Maraton  called  out  from  an  invisible 
place. 

Selingman,  with  a  little  bow  of  triumph  to  Julia, 
passed  down  the  passage  and  into  the  library.  He 
threw  his  hat  upon  the  sofa  and  held  out  both  his 
hands  to  Maraton.  Julia,  who  had  followed  him, 
sank  into  a  chair  before  her  typewriter. 

"  I  have  made  you  famous,  my  friend,"  he  de- 
clared. "  You  may  quote  these  words  in  after  life 
as  representing  the  full  sublimity  of  my  conceit,  but 
it  is  true.  Have  you  read  my  '  Appreciation  '  in  the 
Oracle?  " 

"  I  have,"  Maraton  admitted,  smiling. 


256  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  The  real  thing,"  Selingman  continued,  "  crisp 
and  crackling  with  genius.  As  they  read  it,  the  pho- 
tographers took  down  their  cameras,  the  editors  whis- 
pered to  their  journalists  to  be  off  to  Russell  Square, 
the  ladies  began  to  pen  their  cards  of  invitation." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  Maraton  remarked,  a  little 
grimly,  "  but  where  do  I  come  in  ?  I  have  no  time  for 
the  journalists,  I  refuse  to  be  photographed,  and  I 
am  not  likely  to  accept  the  invitations.  It  takes  my 
two  secretaries  half  their  time  to  wade  through  my 
correspondence  and  to  decide  which  of  it  is  to  be 
pitched  into  the  waste-paper  basket.  I  am  not  a 
dealer  in  quack  remedies,  or  an  actor.  I  don't  want 
advertisement." 

"  Pooh,  my  friend !  —  pooh !  "  Selingman  retorted, 
drawing  out  his  worn  leather  case  and  thrusting  one 
of  the  long  black  cigars  into  his  mouth.  "  Every- 
thing that  is  spontaneous  in  life  is  good  for  you  — 
even  advertisement.  But  listen  to  my  news.  It  is 
great  news,  believe  me.  ...  A  match,  please." 

Maraton  struck  a  vesta  and  handed  it  to  him. 
Selingman  transferred  the  flame  to  a  piece  of  paper 
from  the  waste-paper  basket  and  puffed  contentedly 
at  his  cigar. 

"  I  light  not  cigars  with  a  flavour  like  this,  with 
a  wax  vesta,"  he  explained.  "Where  was  I?  Oh,  I 
know  —  the  news !  This  morning  I  have  received  a 
message.  Maxendorf  has  left  for  England." 

Maraton  smiled. 

"  Is  that  all?  "  he  said.  "  I  could  have  told  you 
that  myself.  The  fact  is  announced  in  all  the  morn- 
ing papers." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  257 

"  He  will  be  at  the  Ritz  Hotel  to-night,"  Selingman 
continued,  unruffled.  "  When  he  arrives,  I  shall  be 
there.  We  speak  together  for  an  hour  and  then  I 
come  for  you." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  meet  Maxendorf,"  Maraton 
agreed  quietly.  "  He  is  a  great  man.  But  don't 
you  think  for  his  first  few  days  in  England  it  would 
be  better  to  leave  him  alone,  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned? " 

"  Later  I  will  remind  you  of  those  words,"  Seling- 
man declared.  "  For  a  genius  you  see  no  further 
than  the  end  of  your  nose.  They  tell  me  that  when 
you  landed,  there  were  prophets  in  the  East  End 
who  rose  up  and  shouted  — '  Maraton  is  come !  Mar- 
aton is  here ! '  No  more  —  just  the  simple  announce- 
ment —  as  though  that  fact  alone  were  changing  life. 
Very  well.  I  will  be  your  prophet  and  you  shall  be 
the  people.  I  will  say  to  you,  as  they  cried  to  the 
Children  of  Israel  groaning  under  their  toil  —  Max- 
endorf has  come !  Maxendorf  is  here !  " 

Maraton  was  silent  for  a  moment.  He  was  sitting 
on  the  edge  of  the  table,  with  folded  arms.  His 
visitor  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  room,  blowing 
out  dense  volumes  of  smoke. 

"  You  have  more  in  your  mind,  Selingman,  than 
you  have  told  me,"  he  said. 

"  What  is  there  that  is  hidden  from  the  eye  of 
genius?"  Selingman  cried,  with  a  theatrical  wave  of 
the  hand.  "  More  than  I  have  told  you  indeed  — 
more  than  I  shall  tell  you.  One  thing,  at  least,  I 
have  learnt  in  my  struggles  with  the  pen,  and  that  is 
to  avoid  the  anti-climax.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  re- 


258  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

member  that.  So  I  am  dumb,  I  speak  no  more.  .  .  . 
Why  don't  you  send  your  poor  little  secretary  out 
for  a  walk?  Mademoiselle,  forgive  me,  but  he  works 
you  too  hard." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  smiling. 

"  I  worked  very  much  harder  before  I  came  here," 
she  answered  quietly. 

"  I  am  fortunate  in  my  secretary,"  Maraton 
interposed.  "  This  is  Miss  Julia  Thurnbrein,  Seling- 
man.  I  don't  suppose  you  read  our  reviews,  but  Miss 
Thurnbrein  is  an  authority  on  woman  labour." 

"  I  read  nothing,"  Selingman  declared,  moving 
over  and  grasping  her  by  the  hand.  "  I  read  nothing. 
People  are  my  books.  I  am  forty-five  years  old. 
I  have  done  with  reading.  I  know  a  great  deal,  I 
have  read  a  great  deal ;  I  read  no  more.  Miss  Julia 
Thurnbrein,  you  say.  Well,  I  like  the  name  of 
Julia.  Only,  young  lady,  you  would  do  better  to 
spend  a  little  more  time  with  the  roses,  and  a  little 
less  under  the  roofs  of  this  grey  city.  Youth,  you 
know,  youth  is  everything.  You  work  best  for  others 
by  realising  the  joys  of  life  yourself.  I,  too,  am  a 
philanthropist,  Miss  Julia  —  I  don't  like  your  other 
name  —  I,  too,  think  and  write  for  others.  I,  too, 
have  dreams  of  a  millennium,  of  days  when  the  huge 
wheel  shall  be  driven  to  a  different  tune,  and  faces 
be  lifted  to  the  skies  that  hang  now  towards  the 
gutters.  But  details  annoy  me,  details  I  cannot  mas- 
ter. I  do  not  want  to  know  how  many  sufferers 
there  are  in  the  world  and  what  particular  sum  they 
starve  upon.  I  leave  others  to  do  that  work.  I  only 
point  forward  to  the  day  of  emancipation.  Put 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  259 

your  hand  in  mine  and  I  will  show  you  in  time  where 
the  clouds  will  first  break." 

Julia  smiled  at  him  a  little  sadly. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  as  well,"  she  said,  "  that  we  have 
champions  who  do  not  care  for  detail.  It  is  detail 
and  the  sight  of  suffering  which  sap  all  the  enthusi- 
asms out  of  us  before  our  time." 

Selingman  frowned  at  her  angrily.  He  blew  out 
another  cloud  of  smoke. 

"  You  make  me  angry,"  he  asserted.  "  I  love  your 
sex,  I  adore  womanhood.  I  look  upon  a  beautiful 
woman  as  a  gift  to  the  world.  Beauty  is  a  gift  to 
be  made  much  of,  to  be  nourished,  to  be  glorified. 
You'  are  tired,  young  woman.  You  work  too 
hard.  You  have  the  rare  gift  —  has  any  one  ever 
told  you  that  you  are  beautiful  ?  " 

Julia  stared  at  him,  her  lips  a  little  parted,  half 
angry,  half  wondering. 

"  Look  at  her,"  Selingman  continued,  turning  to 
Maraton.  "  She  has  the  slim  body,  the  long,  delicate 
figure  of  those  Botticellis  we  all  love  —  except  the 
Russians.  I  never  yet  met  a  Russian  who  could  ap- 
preciate a  Botticelli.  And  her  eyes  —  look  at  them, 
man.  And  you  let  her  sit  there  till  the  hollows  are 
forming  in  her  cheeks.  Be  ashamed  of  yourself. 
Take  her  out  into  the  country.  One  works  just  as 
well  in  the  sunshine.  You  do  better  work  if  you  can 
smell  flowers  growing  around  you  while  your  brain 
is  active.  Lend  her  to  me  for  a  week.  I'll  take  her 
to  my  cottage  in  the  Ardennes.  There  I  live  with 
the  sun  —  breakfast  at  sunrise,  to  bed  at  sunset.  I 
will  dictate  to  you,  Miss  Julia  —  dictate  beautiful 


26o  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

things.  You  shall  be  proud  always.  You  shall  say 
— '  I  have  worked  for  Selingman.  Conceited  ass ! ' 
you  will  probably  add.  Thank  Heavens  that  I  am 
conceited !  Nothing  is  so  splendid  in  life  as  to  know 
your  own  worth.  Nothing  makes  so  much  for  happi- 
ness. .  .  .  Maraton,  where  shall  I  find  you  to- 
night?" 

"  In  the  House  of  Commons,  probably,"  Maraton 
replied.  "  But  take  my  advice.  Leave  Maxendorf 
alone  for  a  few  days." 

"  We  will  see  —  we  will  see,"  Selingman  went  on, 
a  little  impatiently.  "  Come,  I  have  nothing  to  do  — 
nothing  whatever.  I  came  to  London  to  see  you, 
Maraton.  You  must  put  up  with  me.  Work  —  put 
it  away.  The  sun  shines.  Let  us  all  go  into  the 
country.  I  will  get  a  car.  Or  what  of  the  river? 
Perhaps  not.  I  am  too  restless,  I  cannot  sit  still.  I 
will  walk  about  always.  And  I  cannot  swim.  We 
will  take  a  car  and  sometimes  we  will  walk.  I  go  to 
fetch  it  now,  eh?  " 

Maraton  glanced  helplessly  at  Julia.  They  both 
laughed. 

"  I  have  to  be  back  at  four  o'clock,"  the  former 
said.  "  I  have  an  appointment  at  the  House  of 
Commons  then." 

"  Excellent !  "  Selingman  declared.  "  I  go  there 
with  you.  Your  House  of  Commons  always  fasci- 
nates me.  I  hear  you  speak,  perhaps?  No?  What 
does  it  matter?  I  will  hear  the  others  drone.  I  go 
to  fetch  a  car." 

Maraton  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  have  a  car,"  he  observed.     "  It  is  waiting  now 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  261 

at  the  back  entrance.  You  had  better  get  your  things 
on,  Miss  Thurnbrein.  I  can  see  that  we  have  come 
under  the  influence  of  a  master  spirit." 

She  looked  at  the  pile  of  letters  by  her  side,  but 
Maraton  only  shook  his  head. 

"  We  must  parody  his  own  phrase  and  declare  that 
*  Selingman  is  here ! '  "  he  said.  "  Go  and  put  your 
things  on  and  tell  Aaron.  We  will  steal  out  like 
conspirators  at  the  back  door." 

They  lunched  at  a  roadside  inn  in  Buckingham- 
shire, an  inn  ivy-covered,  with  a  lawn  behind,  and  a 
garden  full  of  cottage  flowers.  Selingman  with  his 
own  hands  dragged  out  the  table  from  the  little  sit- 
ting-room, through  the  open  windows  to  a  shaded 
corner  of  the  lawn,  drew  the  cork  from  a  bottle  of 
wine,  and  taking  off  his  coat,  started  to  make  a 
salad. 

f<  Insects  everywhere,"  he  remarked  cheerfully. 
"  Hold  your  parasol  over  my  salad,  please,  Miss 
Julia.  So!  What  does  'it  matter?  Where  there 
are  flowers  and  trees  there  must  be  insects.  Let 
them  live  their  day  of  life." 

"  So  long  as  we  don't  eat  them ! "  Julia  protested. 

"  I  have  tasted  insects  in  South  America  which 
were  delicious,"  Selingman  assured  them.  "  There 
—  leave  your  parasol  over  the  salad,  and,  Maraton, 
move  the  ice-pail  a  little  more  into  the  shade.  Now, 
while  they  set  the  luncheon,  we  will  walk  in  that 
little  flower  garden,  and  I  will  tell  you,  if  you  like, 
a  story  of  mine  I  once  wrote,  the  story  of  two  roses. 
I  published  it,  alas!  It  is  so  hard  to  save  even  our 
most  beautiful  thoughts  from  the  vulgarity  of  print, 


262  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

in  these  days  where  everything  —  love  and  wine,  and 
even  the  roses  themselves  —  cost  money.  Bah !  " 

"  The  story,  please,"  Julia  begged. 

He  walked  in  the  middle  and  took  an  arm  of  each 
of  his  companions. 

"  So  you  would  hear  my  little  story  ? "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Then  listen." 

They  obeyed.  Presently  he  forgot  himself.  His 
eyes  were  half-closed,  his  thoughts  seemed  to  have 
wandered  into  the  strangest  places.  As  his  allegory 
proceeded,  he  seemed  to  drift  away  from  all  knowl- 
edge of  his  immediate  surroundings.  He  chose  his 
words  always  with  the  most  exquisite  and  precise 
care.  They  listened,  entranced.  Then  suddenly  he 
stopped  short  in  the  path. 

"  For  half  an  hour  have  I  been  giving  of  myself," 
he  declared.  "  Almost  I  faint.  Come." 

He  tightened  his  grasp  upon  their  arms  and 
started  walking  with  short,  abrupt  footsteps  and 
great  haste  for  the  luncheon  table. 

"  Fool  that  I  am ! "  he  muttered.  **  It  is  one 
o'clock,  and  I  lunch  always  at  half-past  twelve.  I 
must  eat  quickly.  See,  the  waiter  looks  at  us  sorrow- 
fully. What  of  the  omelette,  I  wonder?  Come, 
Miss  Julia,  at  my  right  hand  there.  Ah!  was  I  not 
right?  The  roses  are  creeping  already  —  creeping 
into  their  proper  place.  Sit  back  in  your  chair  and 
eat  slowly  and  drink  the  yellow  wine,  and  listen  to 
the  humming  of  those  bees.  So  soon  you  will  be- 
come normal,  a  woman,  just  what  you  should  be. 
Heavens!  It  is  well  that  I  came  to  see  Maraton. 
When  I  saw  you  this  morning  in  that  room,  I  said 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  263 

to  myself  —  *  There  is  a  human  creature  who  half 
lives.  What  a  sin  to  half  live!'  .  .  .  Taste  that 
salad,  Maraton.  Taste  it,  man,  and  admit  that  it  is 
well  that  I  came." 

They  were  alone  in  the  garden  —  the  inn  was  a 
little  way  off  the  main  road  and  they  had  discovered 
it  entirely  by  accident.  Both  Julia  and  Maraton 
yielded  gracefully  enough  to  the  influence  of  their 
companion's  personality. 

"  Whether  it  is  well  for  us  or  not,"  Maraton  re- 
marked, as  he  watched  the  wine  flow  into  his  glass, 
"  to  yield  up  one's  will  like  this,  to  become  even  as 
a  docile  child,  I  do  not  know,  but  it  is  very  pleasant. 
It  is  an  hour  of  detachment." 

"  It  is  the  secret  of  youth,  the  secret  of  life,  the 
secret  of  joy,"  Selingman  declared.  "  Detachment 
is  the  word.  Life  would  make  slaves  of  all  of  us, 
if  one  did  not  sometimes  square  one's  shoulders  and 
say  — '  No,  thank  you,  I  have  had  enough !  Good- 
bye! I  return  presently.'  One  needs  a  will,  per- 
haps, but  then,  what  is  life  without  will?  I  myself 
was  at  work.  The  greatest  theatrical  manager  in 
the  world  kept  sentry  before  my  door.  The  greatest 
genius  who  ever  trod  upon  the  stage  sent  me  frantic 
messages  every  few  hours.  Then  they  spoke  to  me 
of  Maraton.  I  heard  the  cry  — '  Maraton  is  here ! ' 
I  heard  the  thunder  from  across  the  seas.  Up  from 
my  desk,  out  from  my  room  —  hysterics,  entreaties, 
nothing  stopped  me.  No  luggage  worth  mentioning. 
Away  I  come,  to  London,  to  Sheffield  —  what  a  place ! 
To-morrow  —  to-morrow  or  the  next  day  I  return, 
full  of  life  and  vigour.  It  is  splendid.  I  broke 


264  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

away.  No  one  else  could  have  done  it.  I  left  them 
in  tears.  What  did  I  care?  It  is  for  myself —  for 
myself  I  do  these  things.  Unless  I  myself  am  at 
my  best,  what  have  I  to  give  the  world?  Miss 
Julia,  your  health!  To  the  roses,  and  may  they 
never  leave  your  cheeks!  No,  don't  go  yet.  There 
are  strawberries  coming." 

Maraton  and  his  host  sat  together  for  a  few  mo- 
ments in  the  garden  before  they  started  on  their 
return  journey.  Selingman  leaned  across  the  table. 
He  had  forgotten  to  put  on  his  coat,  and  he  sat 
unabashed  in  his  shirt  sleeves.  He  had  drunk  a 
good  deal  of  wine,  and  the  little  beads  of  perspiration 
stood  out  upon  his  forehead. 

"  Maraton,"  he  said,  "  you  need  me.  You  are  like 
the  others.  When  the  fire  has  touched  their  eyes 
and  indeed  they  see  the  things  that  are,  they  fall  on 
their  knees  and  they  tear  away  at  the  weeds  and  rub- 
bish that  cumber  the  earth,  and  they  never  lift  their 
eyes,  and  soon  their  frame  grows  weary  and  their 
heart  cold.  Be  wise,  man.  The  mark  is  upon  you. 
Those  live  best  and  work  best  in  this  world  who  have 
a  soul  for  its  beauties.  Women,  for  instance,"  he 
went  on,  smoking  furiously.  "  What  help  do  you 
make  of  women  ?  None !  You  sit  at  one  end  of  the 
table,  your  secretary  at  the  other.  You  don't  look 
at  her.  She  might  have  pig's  eyes,  for  anything  you 
know  about  it.  Idiot !  And  she  —  not  quite  as  bad, 
perhaps.  Women  feel  a  little,  you  know,  that  they 
don't  show.  Why  not  marry,  Maraton?  No? 
Perhaps  you  are  right.  And  yet  women  are  won- 
derful. You  can't  do  your  greatest  work,  Maraton, 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  265 

you  never  will  reach  your  greatest  work,  unless  a 
woman's  hand  is  in  yours." 

They  rode  back  to  London  in  comparative  silence. 
Selingman  frankly  and  openly  slept,  with  his  grey 
hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  his  untidy  feet  upon 
the  opposite  cushions,  his  mouth  wide  open.  Mara- 
ton  more  than  once  found  himself  watching  Julia 
covertly.  There  was  no  doubt  that  in  her  strange, 
quiet  way  she  was  beautiful.  As  he  sat  and  looked 
at  her,  his  thoughts  travelled  back  to  the  little  gar- 
den, the  sheltered  corner  under  the  trees,  the  curious 
sense  of  relaxation  which  in  that  short  hour  Selingman 
had  inspired.  Was  the  man  indeed  right,  his  philoso- 
phy sound?  Was  there  indeed  wisdom  in  the  loosen- 
ing of  the  bonds?  He  met  her  eyes  suddenly,  and 
she  smiled  at  him.  With  her  —  well,  he  scarcely 
dared  to  tell  himself  that  he  knew  how  it  was.  He 
closed  his  eyes  again.  A  thought  had  come  to  him 
sweeter  than  any  yet. 

As  they  neared  London,  Selingman  awoke,  smiled 
blandly  upon  them,  brushed  the  cigar  ash  from  his 
coat  and  waistcoat,  put  on  his  hat  and  looked  about 
him  with  interest. 

"  So  we  are  arrived,"  he  said  presently.  "  The 
Houses  of  Parliament,  eh?  I  enter  with  you,  Mara- 
ton.  You  find  me  a  corner  where  I  sleep  while  the 
others  speak,  and  wake  at  the  sound  of  your  voice. 
Afterwards,  late  to-night,  we  shall  go  to  Maxen- 
dorf." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

It  happened  to  be  a  quiet  evening  in  the  House, 
and  Maraton  and  Selingman  dined  together  at  a 
little  before  eight  o'clock.  Selingman's  personality 
was  too  unusual  to  escape  attention,  and  as  his  iden- 
tity became  known,  a  good  many  passers-by  looked 
at  them  curiously.  Some  one  sent  word  to  Ma*. 
Foley  of  their  presence,  and  very  soon  he  came  in 
and  joined  them. 

"  Six  years  ago  this  month,  Mr.  Selingman,"  the 
Prime  Minister  reminded  him,  "  we  met  at  Madame 
Hermene's  in  Paris.  You  were  often  there  in  those 
days." 

Selingman  nodded  vigorously. 

"  I  remember  it  perfectly,"  he  said  — "  perfectly. 
It  was  a  wonderful  evening.  An  English  Cabinet 
Minister,  the  President  of  France,  Coquelin,  Ros- 
tand, and  I  myself  were  there.  A  clever  woman! 
She  knew  how  to  attract.  In  England  there  is  noth- 
ing of  the  sort,  eh?  " 

"  Nothing,"  Mr.  Foley  admitted.  "  I  am  going 
to  beg  you  both  to  come  on  to  me  to-night.  My 
niece  is  receiving  a  few  friends.  But  I  can  promise 
you  nothing  of  the  same  class  of  attraction,  Mr. 
Selingman." 

"  We  cannot  come,"  Selingman  declared,  without 
hesitation.  "  I  take  my  friend  Maraton  somewhere. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  267 

As  we  sit  here,  Mr.  Foley,  we  have  spoken  of  poli- 
tics. You  are  a  great  man.  If  any  one  can  lift 
your  country  from  the  rut  along  which  she  is  travel- 
ling, you  will  do  it.  A  Unionist  Prime  Minister  and 
you  hold  out  the  hand  to  Maraton !  But  what  fore- 
sight !  What  acumen !  You  see  beyond  the  thunder- 
clouds the  things  that  we  have  seen.  Not  only  do 
you  see  them,  but  you  have  the  courage  to  follow 
your  convictions.  What  a  mess  you  are  making 
of  Parties!" 

Mr.  Foley  smiled. 

"  Ah,  well,  you  see,"  he  said,  "  I  am  no  politician. 
It  is  the  one  claim  I  have  upon  posterity  that  I  am 
the  first  non-politician  who  ever  became  Prime  Min- 
ister." 

"  Excellent !     Excellent !  "  Selingman  murmured. 

"  Maraton,  alas !  "  Mr.  Foley  continued,  "  is  only 
half  a  convert.  As  yet  he  wears  his  yoke  heavily." 

"  A  queer  place  for  him,"  Selingman  declared. 
"  I  looked  down  and  saw  him  there  this  evening.  I 
listened  to  the  dozen  words  he  spoke.  He  seemed  to 
me  rather  like  a  lawyer,  who,  having  a  dull  case, 
says  what  he  has  to  say  and  sits  down.  Does  he 
do  any  real  good  here,  Mr.  Foley  ?  " 

"  It  is  from  these  walls,"  the  Prime  Minister  re- 
minded him,  "  that  the  laws  of  the  country  are 
framed." 

Selingman  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"  Academically  correct,"  he  admitted,  "  and  yet, 
walls  of  brick  and  stone  may  crumble  and  split. 
The  laws  which  endure  come  into  being  through  the 
power  of  the  people." 


268  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"Don't  throw  cold  water  upon  my  compromise," 
Mr.  Foley  begged.  "  We  are  hoping  for  great 
things.  We  are  fighting  the  class  against  which  you 
have  written  so  splendidly ;  we  are  fighting  the  bour- 
geoisie, tooth  and  nail.  One  thing  is  certainly 
written  —  that  if  Maraton  here  stands  by  my  side 
for  the  next  seven  years,  Labour  will  have  thrown 
off  one,  at  least,  of  the  shackles  that  bind  her.  Isn't 
it  better  to  release  her  slowly  and  gradually,  than  to 
destroy  her  altogether  by  trying  more  violent 
means  ?  " 

"  Ah,  who  knows ! "  Selingman  remarked  enig- 
matically. "  Who  knows  !  .  .  .  And  what  of  the  rest 
of  the  evening?  Are  there  more  laws  to  be  made  — 
more  speeches?" 

"  Finished,"  Mr.  Foley  replied.  "  There  is  noth- 
ing more  to  be  done.  That  is  why  I  am  proposing 
that  you  two  men  go  to  your  rooms,  make  yourselves 
look  as  much  like  Philistines  as  you  can,  and  come 
and  pay  your  respects  to  my  niece.  Lady  Elisabeth 
is  complaining  a  little  about  you,  Maraton,"  he  went 
on.  "  You  are  a  rare  visitor." 

"  Lady  Elisabeth  is  very  kind,"  Maraton  mur- 
mured. 

"  I  wish  that  we  could  come,"  Selingman  said. 
"  If  I  lived  here  long,  I  would  bustle  our  friend 
Maraton  about.  To-day  I  have  had  him  a  little 
way  into  the  country,  him  and  his  pale-faced  secre- 
tary, and  I  have  poured  sunshine  down  upon  them, 
and  wine,  and  good  things  to  eat.  Oh,  they  are  very 
narrow,  both  of  them,  when  they  look  out  at  life! 
Not  so  am  I.  I  love  to  feel  the  great  thoughts 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  269 

swinging  through  my  brain,  but  I  love  also  the  good 
things  of  life.  I  love  the  interludes  of  careless  joys, 
I  love  all  the  pleasant  things  our  bodies  were  meant 
to  appreciate.  Those  who  do  not,  they  wither  early. 
I  do  not  like  pale  cheeks.  Therefore,  I  wish  that  I 
could  stay  a  little  time  with  this  friend  of  ours.  I 
would  see  that  he  paid  his  respects  to  all  the  charm- 
ing ladies  who  were  ready  to  welcome  him." 

Mr.  Foley  laughed  softly. 

"  What  a  marvellous  mixture  you  would  make, 
you  two !  "  he  observed.  **  Your  prose  and  Maraton's 
eloquence,  your  philosophy  and  his  tenacity.  So 
you  won't  come?  Well,  I  am  disappointed." 

"  We  go  to  see  a  friend  of  mine,"  Selingman  an- 
nounced. "  We  go  to  pay  our  respects  to  a  man 
famous  indeed,  a  man  who  will  make  history  in  your 
country." 

Mr.  Foley's  expression  suddenly  changed.  He 
leaned  a  little  across  the  table. 

"  Are  you  speaking  of  Maxendorf  ?  " 

Selingman  nodded  vigorously. 

"  Since  you  have  guessed  it  —  yes,"  he  admitted. 
"  We  go  to  Maxendorf.  I  take  Maraton  there.  It 
will  be  a  great  meeting.  We  three  —  we  represent 
much.  A  great  meeting,  indeed." 

Mr.  Foley's  face  was  troubled. 

"  Maxendorf  only  arrives  to-night,"  he  remarked 
presently. 

"  What  matter?  "  Selingman  replied.  "  He  is  like 
me  —  he  is  tireless,  and  though  his  body  be  weary, 
his  brain  is  ever  working." 

"  What  do  they  say  on  the  Continent  about  his 


27o  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

coming?  "  Mr.  Foley  enquired.  "  We  thought  that 
he  was  settled  for  life  in  Rome." 

Selingman  shook  his  head  portentously. 

"  Politics,"  he  declared,  "  ah !  in  the  abstract  they 
are  wonderful,  but  in  the  concrete  they  do  not  inter- 
est me.  Maxendorf  has  come  here,  doubtless,  with 
great  schemes  in  his  mind." 

"  Schemes  of  friendship  or  of  enmity  ?  "  Mr.  Foley 
asked  swiftly. 

Selingman's  shoulders  were  hunched. 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  Who  can  tell  the  thoughts  which 
his  brain  has  conceived?  Maxendorf  is  a  silent  man. 
He  is  the  first  people's  champion  who  has  ever  held 
high  office  in  his  country.  You  see,  he  has  the  gifts 
which  no  one  can  deny.  He  moves  forward  to  what- 
ever place  he  would  occupy,  and  he  takes  it.  He 
is  in  politics  as  I  in  literature." 

The  man's  magnificent  egotism  passed  unnoticed. 
Curiously  enough,  the  truth  of  it  was  so  apparent 
that  its  expression  seemed  natural. 

"  I  must  confess,"  Mr.  Foley  said  quietly,  "  to 
you  two  alone,  that  I  had  rather  he  had  come  at  some 
other  time.  Selingman,  you  are  indeed  one  of  the 
happiest  of  the  earth.  You  have  no  responsibilities 
save  the  responsibilities  you  owe  to  your  genius. 
The  only  call  to  which  you  need  listen  is  the  call 
to  give  to  the  world  the  thoughts  and  music  which 
beat  in  your  brain.  And  with  us,  things  are  differ- 
ent. There  is  the  future  of  a  country,  the  future 
of  an  Empire,  always  at  stake,  when  one  sleeps  and 
when  one  wakes." 

Selingman  nodded  his  head  vigorously. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  271 

"  Frankly,"  he  admitted,  "  I  sympathise  with  you. 
Responsibility  I  hate.  And  yours,  Mr.  Foley,"  he 
added,  "  is  a  great  one.  I  am  a  friend  of  England. 
I  am  a  friend  of  the  England  who  should  be.  As 
your  country  is  to-day,  I  fear  that  she  has  very 
few  friends  indeed,  apart  from  her  own  shores.  You 
may  gain  allies  from  reasons  of  policy,  but  you  have 
not  the  national  gifts  which  win  friendship." 

"  How  do  you  account  for  it  ?  "  Mr.  Foley  asked 
him. 

"  Your  Press,  for  one  tiling,"  Selingman  replied ; 
"  your  Press,  written  for  and  inspired  with  the  whole 
spirit  of  the  bourgeoisie.  You  prate  about  your 
Empire,  but  you've  never  learnt  yet  to  think  im- 
perially. But  there,  it  is  not  for  this  I  crossed  the 
Channel.  It  is  to  be  with  Maraton." 

"  So  long  as  you  do  not  take  him  from  me,  I  will 
not  grudge  you  his  company,"  Mr.  Foley  remarked, 
rising.  "  On  the  other  hand,  I  would  very  much 
rather  that  you  made  your  bow  to  my  niece  to-night 
than  went  to  Maxendorf." 

Maraton  felt  suddenly  a  twinge  of  something 
which  was  almost  compunction.  Mr.  Foley's  face 
was  white  and  tired.  He  had  the  air  of  a  man  op- 
pressed with  anxieties  which  he  was  doing  his  best  to 
conceal. 

"  If  I  can,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  very  much 
to  see  Lady  Elisabeth.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  in  time 
after  our  interview  with  Maxendorf,  or  before.  I 
will  go  home  and  change,  on  the  chance." 

The  Prime  Minister  nodded,  but  his  slightly  re- 
laxed expression  seemed  to  show  that  he  appreciated 


272  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Maraton's  intention.  Selingman  looked  after  him 
gloomily  as  he  left  the  room. 

"  What  devilish  impulse,"  he  muttered,  "  leads 
these  men  to  pass  into  your  rotten  English  politics! 
It  is  like  a  poet  trying  to  navigate  a  dredger.  Bah ! 
.  .  .  Need  you  go  into  that  gloomy  chamber  again, 
my  friend  ?  " 

Maraton  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  finished,"  he  declared.  "  There  will  be 
no  division." 

"  But  do  you  never  speak  there  ?  " 

"  Up  to  now  I  have  not  uttered  more  than  a  dozen 
words  or  so,"  Maraton  replied.  "  You  try  it  your- 
self —  try  speaking  to  a  crowd  of  well-dressed,  well- 
fed,  smug  units  of  respectability,  each  with  his  mind 
full  of  his  own  affairs  or  the  affairs  of  his  constitu- 
ency. You  try  it.  You  wouldn't  find  the  words 
stream,  I  can  tell  you." 

Selingman  grunted. 

"  And  now  —  what  now  ?  " 

"  To  my  rooms  —  to  my  house,"  Maraton  an- 
nounced, "  while  I  change." 

"  It  is  good.  I  shall  talk  to  your  secretary.  I 
shall  talk  to  Miss  Julia  while  you  disappear.  Shall 
I  rob  you,  my  friend  ?  " 

*'  You  would  rob  me  of  a  great  deal  if  you  took 
her  away,"  Maraton  answered,  "  but  — " 

Selingman  interrupted  him  with  a  fiercely  con- 
temptuous exclamation. 

"  You  have  it  —  the  rotten,  insular  conceit  of 
these  Englishmen!  You  think  that  she  would  not 
come?  Do  you  think  that  if  I  were  to  say  to  her, 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  273 

—  *  Come  and  listen  while  I  make  garlands  of  words, 
while  I  take  you  through  the  golden  doors ! '  —  do 
you  think  that  she  would  not  put  her  hand  in  mine? 
Fancy  —  to  live  in  my  fairy  chamber,  to  listen  while 
I  give  shape  and  substance  to  all  that  I  conceive  — 
what  woman  would  refuse !  " 

Maraton  laughed  softly  as  they  passed  out  into 
the  Palace  yard. 

"  Try  Julia,"  he  suggested. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Selingman  had  the  air  of  one  who  has  achieved 
a  personal  triumph  as,  with  his  arm  in  Maraton's, 
he  led  him  towards  the  man  whom  they  had  come 
to  visit. 

"  Behold !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  a  triumph,  this ! 
It  is  a  thing  to  be  remembered !  I  have  brought  you 
two  together ! " 

Maraton's  first  impressions  of  Maxendorf  were 
curiously  mixed.  He  saw  before  him  a  tall,  lanky 
figure  of  a  man,  dressed  in  sombre  black,  a  man  of 
dark  complexion,  with  beardless  face  and  tanned 
skin  plentifully  freckled.  His  hair  and  eyes  were 
coal  black.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  Maraton,  but 
the  smile  with  which  he  had  welcomed  Selingman  had 
passed  from  his  lips. 

"  You  are  not  the  Maraton  I  expected  some  day 
to  meet,"  he  said,  a  little  bluntly,  "  and  yet  I  am 
glad  to  know  you." 

Selingman  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Max  —  my  friend  Max,  do  not  be  peevish,"  he 
begged.  "  I  tell  you  that  he  is  the  Maraton  of 
whom  we  have  spoken  together.  I  have  heard  him. 
I  have  been  to  Sheffield  and  listened.  Don't  be  preju- 
diced, Max.  Wait." 

Maxendorf  motioned  them  to  seats  and  stood  with 
his  finger  upon  the  bell. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  275 

"  Yes,"  Selingman  assented,  "  we  will  drink  with 
you.  You  breathe  of  the  Rhine,  my  friend.  I  see 
myself  sitting  with  you  in  your  terraced  garden, 
drinking  Moselle  wine  out  of  cut  glasses.  So  it  shall 
be.  We  will  fall  into  the  atmosphere.  What  a  pal- 
ace you  live  in,  Max!  Is  it  because  you  are  an  am- 
bassador that  they  must  house  you  so  splendidly?  " 

Maxendorf  glanced  around  him.  He  was  in  one 
of  the  best  suites  in  the  hotel,  but  he  had  the  air  of 
one  who  was  only  then,  for  the  first  time,  made  aware 
of  the  fact. 

"  These  things  are  done  for  me,"  he  said  care- 
lessly. "  It  seems  I  have  come  before  I  was  expected. 
The  Embassy  is  scarcely  ready  for  occupation." 

He  ordered  wine  from  the  waiter  and  exchanged 
personal  reminiscences  with  Selingman  until  it  was 
brought.  Selingman  grunted  with  satisfaction. 

"  Two  bottles,"  he  remarked.  "  Come,  I  like  that. 
A  less  thoughtful  man  would  have  ordered  one  first 
and  the  other  afterwards.  The  period  of  waiting 
for  the  second  bottle  would  have  destroyed  the  appe- 
tite. Quite  an  artist,  my  friend  Max.  And  the 
wine  —  well,  we  shall  see." 

He  raised  the  glass  to  his  lips  with  the  air  of  a 
connoisseur. 

"  It  will  do,"  he  decided,  setting  it  down  empty 
and  lighting  one  of  his  black  cigars.  "  Now  let  us 
talk.  Or  shall  I,  for  a  change,  be  silent  and  let  you 
talk?  To-day  my  tongue  has  been  busy.  Maraton 
is  a  silent  man,  and  he  has  a  silent  secretary  with 
great  eyes  behind  which  lurk  fancies  and  dreams  the 
poor  little  thing  has  never  been  encouraged  to  speak 


276  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

of.  A  silent  man  —  Maraton.  Rather  like  you, 
Max.  Which  of  you  will  talk  the  more,  I  wonder? 
I  shall  be  dumb." 

"  It  will  be  I  who  will  talk,"  Maxendorf  asserted. 
"  I,  because  I  have  a  mission,  things  to  explain  to 
our  friend  here,  if  he  will  but  listen." 

"  Listen  —  of  course  he  will  listen !  "  Selingman 
interrupted.  "  You  two  —  what  was  it  the  Oracle 
called  you  both  —  the  world's  deliverers.  Put  your 
heads  together  and  decide  how  you  are  going  to  do 
it.  The  people  over  here,  Max,  are  rotting  in  their 
kennels.  Sink-holes  they  live  in.  Live!  What  a 
word!" 

"  If  you  indeed  have  something  to  say  to  me," 
Maraton  proposed,  "  let  us  each  remember  who  we 
are.  There  is  no  need  for  preambles.  I  know  you 
to  be  a  people's  man.  We  have  all  watched  your 
rise.  We  have  all  marvelled  at  it." 

"  A  Socialist  statesman  in  the  stiffest-necked 
country  of  Europe,"  Selingman  muttered.  "  Mar- 
velled at  it,  indeed !  " 

"  I  am  where  I  am,"  Maxendorf  declared,  "  be- 
cause the  world  is  governed  by  laws,  and  in  the  main 
they  are  laws  of  justice  and  right.  The  people  of 
my  country  fifty  years  ago  were  as  deep  in  the  mire 
as  the  people  of  your  country  to-day.  Their  liber- 
ation has  already  dawned.  That  is  why  I  stand 
where  I  do.  Your  people,  alas!  are  still  dwellers  in 
the  caves.  The  moment  for  you  has  not  yet  arrived. 
When  I  heard  that  Maraton  had  come  to  England, 
I  changed  all  my  plans.  I  said  to  myself  — '  I  will 
go  to  Maraton  and  I  will  show  him  how  he  may  lead 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  277 

his  people  to  the  light.'  And  then  I  heard  other 
things." 

"  Continue,"  Maraton  said  simply. 

Maxendorf  rose  to  his  feet.  He  came  a  little 
nearer  to  Maraton.  He  stood  looking  down  at  him 
with  folded  arms  —  a  lank,  gaunt  figure,  the  angular 
lines  of  his  body  and  limbs  accentuated  by  his  black 
clothes  and  black  tie. 

<k  It  came  upon  me  like  a  thunderbolt,"  Maxendorf 
proceeded.  "  I  heard  unexpectedly  that  Maraton 
had  entered  Parliament,  had  placed  his  hand  in  the 
hand  of  a  Minister  —  not  even  the  leader  of  the 
people's  Party.  You  do  not  read  the  Press  of  my 
country,  perhaps.  You  did  not  hear  across  the  seas 
the  groan  which  came  from  the  hearts  of  my  chil- 
dren. I  said  to  myself  —  *  The  Maraton  whom  we 
knew  of  exists  no  longer,  yet  I  will  go  and  see.' ' 

Maraton  moved  in  his  chair  a  little  uneasily.  He 
felt  suddenly  as  though  he  were  a  prisoner  at  the 
bar,  and  this  man  his  judge. 

"  You  do  not  understand  the  circumstances  which 
I  found  existing  on  my  arrival  here,"  Maraton  ex- 
plained. "  You  do  not  understand  the  promises 
which  I  have  received  from  Mr.  Foley,  and  which 
he  is  already  carrying  into  effect.  You  read  of  the 
Lancashire  strike?  " 

Maxendorf  nodded  his  long  head  slowly  but  said 
nothing. 

"  The  settlement  of  that,"  Maraton  continued, 
"  was  arranged  before  I  spoke  to  the  people.  It  is 
the  same  with  Sheffield.  For  the  first  time,  the  Par- 
liament of  this  country  has  passed  a  measure  com- 


278  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

pelling  the  manufacturers  to  recognise  and  treat 
with  the  demands  of  the  people.  Trade  Unionism 
has  been  lifted  to  an  entirely  different  level.  There 
are  three  Bills  now  being  drafted  —  people's  Bills. 
Revolutionary  measures  they  would  have  been  called, 
a  thousand  years  ago.  Every  industry  in  the  coun- 
try will  have  its  day.  In  the  next  ten  years  Capital 
will  have  earned  many  millions  less,  and  those  many 
millions  will  have  gone  to  the  labouring  classes." 

"  Is  it  you  who  speak,"  Maxendorf  asked  grimly, 
"  or  is  this  another  man  —  a  sophist  living  in  the 
shadow  of  Maraton's  fame?  Is  there  anything  of 
the  truth,  anything  of  the  great  compelling  truth  in 
this  piecemeal  legislation?  Is  it  in  this  way  that  the 
freedom  of  a  country  can  be  gained?  One  gathered 
that  the  Maraton  who  sent  his  message  across  the 
seas  had  different  plans." 

"  I  had,"  Maraton  admitted,  "  but  the  time  came 
when  I  was  forced  to  ask  myself  whether  they  were 
not  rather  the  plans  of  the  dreamer  and  the  theorist, 
when  I  was  forced  to  ask  myself  whether  I  was  justi- 
fied in  destroying  this  generation  for  the  sake  of 
those  to  come.  Life,  after  all,  is  a  marvellous  gift. 
You  and  I  may  believe  in  immortality,  but  who  can 
be  sure?  It  is  easy  enough  to  play  chess,  but  when 
the  pawns  are  human  lives,  who  would  not  hesitate?  " 

Maxendorf  sighed. 

"I    cannot    talk   with    you,    Maraton,"    he    said. 

«7 

"  You  will  not  speak  with  me  honestly.  You  came, 
you  landed  on  these  shores  with  an  inspired  idea  — 
something  magnificent,  something  worthy.  You  have 
substituted  for  it  the  time-worn  methods  of  all  the 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  279 

reformers  since  the  days  of  Adam,  who  have  parted 
with  their  principles  and  dabbled  in  sentimental 
altruism.  Piecemeal  legislation  —  what  can  it  do  ?  " 

"  It  can  build,"  Maraton  declared.  "  It  can  build, 
generation  by  generation.  It  can  produce  a  saner 
race,  and  as  the  light  comes,  so  the  truth  will  flow 
in  upon  the  minds  of  all." 

"  An  illusion ! "  Selingman  interrupted,  with  a 
sudden  fierceness  in  his  tone.  "  Once,  Maraton,  you 
looked  at  life  sanely  enough.  Are  you  sure  that 
to-day  you  have  not  put  on  the  poisoned  spectacles? 
Don't  you  know  the  end  of  these  spasmodic  reforms  ? 
You  pass,  your  influence  passes,  your  mantle  is 
buried  in  your  grave,  and  the  country  slips  back, 
and  the  people  suffer,  and  the  great  wheel  grinds 
them  into  bone  and  powder  just  as  surely  a  century 
hence  as  a  century  ago.  Man,  you  don't  start  right. 
If  you  would  restore  a  ruined  and  neglected  garden, 
you  must  first  destroy,  make  a  bonfire  of  the  weeds, 
prepare  your  soil.  Then,  in  the  springtime,  fresh 
flowers  will  blossom,  the  trees  will  give  leaf,  the  birds 
who  have  deserted  a  ruined  and  fruitless  waste  will 
return  and  sing  once  more  the  song  of  life.  But 
there  must  be  destruction,  Maraton.  You  yourself 
preached  it  once,  preached  fire  and  the  sword.  Some- 
thing has  gone  from  you  since  those  days/  Compro- 
mise —  the  spirit  of  compromise  you  call  it.  How 
one  hates  the  sound  of  it!  Bah!  Man,  you  are 
on  a  lower  level,  when  you  talk  the  smug  talk  of 
to-day.  I  am  disappointed  in  you.  Maxendorf  is 
disappointed  in  you.  You  are  riding  down  the  easy; 
way  on  to  the  sandbanks  of  failure." 


280  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Your  garden,"  Maraton  rejoined,  with  an  answer- 
ing note  of  passion  in  his  tone,  "  would  never  have 
blossomed  again  if  you  had  driven  the  plough  across 
it,  ripped  up  its  fruit  trees,  torn  up  its  neglected 
plants  by  ruthless  force.  You  must  plant  fresh  seed 
and  grow  new  trees.  Then  there's  another  nation, 
another  world.  What  about  your  responsibilities  to 
the  present  one?  Isn't  it  great  to  save  what  is, 
rather  than  to  destroy  for  the  sake  of  those  who  have 
neither  toiled  nor  suffered?  I  thought  as  you  once. 
The  philosopher  thinks  like  that  in  his  study.  Stand 
before  those  people,  look  into  their  white,  labour- 
worn  faces,  feel  with  them,  sorrow  with  them  for  a 
little  time,  and  I  tell  you  that  your  hand  will  falter 
before  it  drives  the  plough.  You  will  raise  your  eyes 
to  heaven  and  pray  that  you  may  see  some  way  of 
bringing  help  to  them  —  to  them  who  live  —  the  help 
for  which  they  crave.  Haven't  they  a  right  to  their 
lives?  Who  gives  us  a  mandate  to  sweep  them  away 
for  the  sake  of  the  unborn  ?  " 

"  You  have  become  a  sentimentalist,  Maraton," 
Maxendorf  declared  grimly.  "  The  soft  places  in 
your  heart  have  led  you  to  forget  for  a  moment  the 
inexorable  laws.  Let  us  pass  from  these  generalities. 
Let  us  speak  of  things  such  as  you  had  at  first 
intended.  I  know  what  was  in  your  heart.  You 
meant  to  pass  from  Birmingham  to  Glasgow,  to 
preach  the  holy  war  of  Labour,  a  giant  crusade. 
You  meant  to  close  the  mills,  to  stop  the  wheels,  to 
blank  the  forges  and  rake  out  the  furnaces  of  the 
country.  You  meant  to  place  your  finger  upon  its 
arteries  and  stop  their  beating.  You  meant  to  turn 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  281 

the  people  loose  upon  their  oppressors.  Though 
they  must  perish  in  their  thousands,  yet  you  meant 
to  show  them  the  naked  truth,  to  show  them  of  what 
they  are  being  deprived,  to  show  them  the  irresistible 
laws  of  justice,  so  that  for  very  shame  they  must 
drop  their  tools  and  stand  for  their  rights.  Why 
didn't  you  do  it?  " 

"  I  have  told  you,"  Maraton  answered. 

"  Yes,  you  have  told  us,"  Maxendorf  continued. 
"  Supposing  there  were  still  a  way  by  which  even 
this  present  generation  could  reap  the  benefit?  Are 
you  great  enough,  Maraton,  to  listen  to  me,  I  won- 
der? That  is  what  I  ask  myself  since  you  have 
become  a  Party  politician,  a  friend  of  Ministers, 
since  you  have  joined  in  the  puppet  dance  of  the 
world.  See  to  what  I  have  brought  my  people.  In 
ten  years'  time  I  tell  you  that  nearly  every  industry 
in  my  country  will  be  conducted  upon  a  profit-shar- 
ing basis." 

"  You  have  brought  them  to  this,"  Maraton  re- 
minded him  swiftly,  "  by  peaceful  methods." 

"  For  me  there  were  no  other  needed,"  Maxendorf 
urged.  "  For  you  the  case  is  different.  If  you  are 
one  of  those  who  love  to  strut  about  and  boast  of 
your  nationality,  if  you  are  one  of  those  in  whom 
lingers  the  smallest  particle  of  the  falsest  sentiment 
which  the  age  of  romance  has  ever  handed  down  to 
us  —  what  they  call  patriotism  —  then  my  words 
will  be  wasted.  But  here  is  the  message  which  I 
have  brought  to  you  and  to  your  people.  This  is 
the  dream  of  my  life  which  he,  Selingman,  alone  has 
known  of  —  the  fusion  of  our  races." 


282  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Magnificent !  "  Selingman  cried,  springing  to  his 
feet.  "  The  dream  of  a  god !  Listen  to  it,  Mara- 
ton.  My  brain  has  realised  it.  I,  too,  have  seen  it. 
Your  country  is  bound  in  the  everlasting  shackles. 
Generations  must  pass  before  you  can  even  weaken 
the  hold  of  your  bourgeoisie  upon  the  soul  and  spirit 
of  your  land.  You  are  tied  hard  and  fast,  and  withal 
you  are  on  the  downward  grade.  The  work  which 
you  do  to-day,  the  next  generation  will  undo.  Give 
up  this  foolish  legislation.  Listen  to  Maxendorf. 
He  will  show  you  the  way." 

"  When  you  speak  of  fusion,"  Maraton  asked, 
"  you  mean  conquest  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  such  word,"  Maxendorf  insisted. 
"  The  hearts  of  our  people  are  close  together.  Put 
aside  all  these  artificial  ententes  and  alliances. 
There  are  no  two  people  whose  ideals  and  whose  aims 
and  whose  destiny  are  so  close  together  as  your 
country's  and  mine.  It  is  for  that  very  reason  that 
these  periods  of  distrust  and  suspicion  continually 
occur,  suspicions  which  impoverish  two  countries 
with  the  millions  we  spend  on  senseless  schemes  of 
defence.  Away  with  them  all.  Stop  the  pendulum 
of  your  country.  Declare  your  coal  strike,  your 
railway  strike,  your  ironfounders'  strike.  Let  the 
revolution  come.  I  tell  you  then  that  we  shall  appear 
not  as  invaders,  but  as  friends  and  liberators.  Your 
industries  shall  start  again  on  a  new  basis,  the  basis 
which  you  and  I  know  of,  the  basis  which  gives  to 
the  toilers  their  just  and  legitimate  share  of  what 
they  produce.  Your  trade  shall  flourish  just  as  it 
flourished  before,  but  away  to  dust  and  powder  with 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  283 

streets  of  pig-sties,  the  rat-holes  into  which 
jour  weary  labourers  creep  after  their  hours  of 
senseless  slavery.  You  and  I,  Maraton,  know  how 
industries  should  be  conducted.  You  and  I  know 
the  just  share  which  Capital  should  claim.  You  and 
I  together  will  make  the  laws.  Oh,  what  does  it 
matter  whether  you  are  English  or  Icelanders,  Fins 
or  Turks!  Humanity  is  so  much  greater  than 
nationality.  Your  men  shall  work  side  by  side  with 
mine,  and  what  each  produces,  each  shall  have. 
What  is  being  done  for  my  country  shall  surely  be 
done  for  yours.  Can't  you  see,  Maraton  —  can't 
you  see,  my  prophet  who  gropes  in  the  darkness, 
that  I  am  showing  you  the  only  way  ?  " 

Maraton  rose  to  his  feet.  He  came  and  stood 
by  Maxendorf's  side. 

"  Maxendorf ,"  he  said,  "  you  may  be  speaking  to 
me  from  your  heart.  Yes,  I  will  admit  that  you 
are  speaking  to  me  from  your  heart.  But  you  ask 
me  to  take  an  awful  risk.  You  stand  first  in  your 
country  to-day,  but  in  your  country  there  are  other 
powerful  influences  at  work.  So  much  of  what  you 
say  is  true.  If  I  believed,  Maxendorf  —  if  I  be- 
lieved that  this  fusion,  as  you  call  it,  of  our  people 
could  come  about  in  the  way  you  suggest,  if  I 
believed  that  the  building  up  of  our  prosperity  could 
start  again  on  the  real  and  rational  basis  of  many 
of  your  institutions,  if  I  believed  this,  Maxendorf, 
no  false  sentiment  would  stand  in  my  way.  I  would 
risk  the  eternal  shame  of  the  historians.  So  far  as 
I  could  do  it,  I  would  give  you  this  country.  But 
there  is  always  the  doubt,  the  awful  doubt.  You 


284  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

have  a  ruler  whose  ideas  are  not  your  ideas. 
You  have  a  people  behind  you  who  are  strange  to 
me.  I  have  not  travelled  in  your  country,  I  know 
little  of  it.  What  if  your  people  should  assume  the 
guise  of  conquerors,  should  garrison  our  towns  with 
foreign  soldiers,  demand  a  huge  indemnity,  and  then, 
withdrawing,  leave  us  to  our  fate?  You  have  no 
guarantees  to  offer  me,  Maxendorf." 

"  None  but  my  word,"  Maxendorf  confessed 
quietly. 

"  You  bargain  like  a  politician !  "  Selingman  cried. 
"Man,  can't  you  see  the  glory  of  it?" 

"  I  can  see  the  glory,"  Maraton  answered,  turning 
around,  "  but  I  can  see  also  the  ineffaceable  ignominy 
of  it.  Is  your  country  great  enough,  Maxendorf, 
to  follow  where  your  finger  points  ?  I  do  not  know." 

"  Yet  you,  too,"  Maxendorf  persisted,  "  must 
sometimes  have  looked  into  futurity.  You  must 
have  seen  the  slow  decay  of  national  pride,  the 
nations  of  the  world  growing  closer  and  closer  to- 
gether. Can't  you  bear  to  strike  a  blow  for  the 
great  things?  You  and  I  see  so  well  the  utter  bar- 
barism of  warfare,  the  hideous  waste  of  our  mighty 
armaments,  draining  the  money  like  blood  from  our 
countries,  and  all  for  senselessness,  all  just  to  keep 
alive  that  strange  spirit  which  belongs  to  the  days 
of  romance,  and  the  days  of  romance  only.  It's  a 
workaday  world  now,  Maraton.  We  draw  nearer  to 
the  last  bend  in  the  world's  history.  Oh,  this  is  the 
truth !  I  have  seen  it  for  so  long.  It's  my  religion, 
Maraton.  The  time  may  not  have  come  to  preach 
it  broadcast,  but  it's  there  in  my  heart." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  285 

Selingman  struck  the  table  with  the  palm  of  his 
hand. 

"Enough!"  he  said.  "The  words  have  been 
spoken.  To-morrow  or  the  next  day  we  meet  again. 
Go  to  your  study,  Maraton,  and  think.  Lock  the 
door.  Turn  out  the  Julia  I  shall  some  day  rob  you 
of.  Hold  your  head,  look  into  the  future.  Think! 
Think!  No  more  words  now.  They  do  no  good. 
Come.  I  stay  with  Maxendorf.  I  go  with  you  to 
the  lift." 

Maxendorf  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Selingman  is,  as  usual,  right,"  he  confessed. 
"  We  are  speaking  in  a  great  language,  Maraton. 
It  is  enough  for  to-night,  perhaps.  Come  back  to 
me  when  you  will  within  the  next  forty-eight  hours." 

They  left  him  there,  a  curious  figure,  straight  and 
motionless,  standing  upon  the  threshold  of  his  room. 
Selingman  gripped  Maraton  by  the  arm  as  he  hur- 
ried him  along  the  corridor. 

"  You've  doubts,  Maraton,"  he  muttered. 
"  Doubts !  Curse  them !  They  are  not  worthy. 
You  should  see  the  truth.  You're  big  enough.  You 
will  see  it  to-morrow.  Get  out  of  the  fog.  Maxen- 
dorf is  the  most  profound  thinker  of  these  days. 
He  is  over  here  with  that  scheme  of  his  deep  in  his 
heart.  It's  become  a  passion  with  him.  We  have 
talked  of  it  by  the  hour,  spoken  of  you,  prayed  for 
some  prophet  on  your  side  with  eyes  to  see  the  truth. 
Into  the  lift  with  you,  man.  Look  for  me  to-mor- 
row. Farewell !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

Maraton  was  more  than  ever  conscious,  as  he 
climbed  the  stairs  of  the  house  in  Downing  Street 
an  hour  or  so  later,  of  a  certain  fragility  of  appear- 
ance in  Mr.  Foley,  markedly  apparent  during  these 
last  few  weeks.  He  was  standing  talking  to  Lord 
Annley,  who  was  one  of  the  late  arrivals,  as  Mara- 
ton entered,  talking  in  a  low  tone  and  with  an  ob- 
viously serious  manner.  At  the  sound  of  Maraton's 
name,  however,  he  turned  swiftly  around.  His  face 
seemed  to  lighten.  He  held  out  his  hand  with  an 
air  almost  of  relief. 

"  So  you  have  come ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  am 
glad." 

Maraton  shook  hands  and  would  have  passed  on, 
but  Mr.  Foley  detained  him. 

"  Armley  and  I  were  talking  about  this  after- 
noon's decision,"  he  continued.  "  There  will  be  no 
secret  about  it  to-morrow.  It  has  been  decided  to 
carry  out  our  autumn  manauvres  as  usual  in  South- 
ern waters." 

Maraton  nodded. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  is  one  of  the  things  the  signifi- 
cance of  which  fails  to  reach  me,"  he  remarked. 
"  You  were  against  it,  were  you  not?  " 

Mr.  Foley  groaned  softly. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  "  there  is  only  one  fault 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  287 

with  the  Members  of  my  Government,  only  one  fault 
with  this  country.  We  are  all  foolishly  and  blindly 
sanguine.  We  are  optimistic  by  persuasion  and 
self-persuasion.  We  like  the  comfortable  creed.  I 
suppose  that  the  bogey  of  war  has  strutted  with  us 
for  so  long  that  we  have  grown  used  to  it." 

Maraton  looked  at  his  companion  thoughtfully. 

"  Do  you  seriously  believe,  Mr.  Foley,"  he  asked 
in  an  undertone,  "  in  the  possibility,  in  the  imminent 
possibility  of  war?  " 

Mr.  Foley  half-closed  his  eyes  and  sighed. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Maraton,"  he  murmured,  "  it  isn't 
a  question  of  belief!  It's  like  asking  me  whether 
I  believe  I  can  see  from  here  into  my  own  drawing- 
room.  The  figures  in  there  are  real  enough,  aren't 
they?  So  is  the  cloud  I  can  see  gathering  all  the 
time  over  our  heads.  It  is  a  question  only  of  the 
propitious  moment  —  of  that  there  is  no  manner  of 
doubt." 

"  You  speak  of  affairs,"  Maraton  admitted,  "  of 
which  I  know  nothing.  I  do  not  even  understand 
the  balance  of  power.  I  always  thought,  though, 
that  every  great  nation,  our  own  included,  paid  a 
certain  amount  of  insurance  in  the  shape  of  huge 
contributions  towards  a  navy  and  army ;  that  we  paid 
such  insurance  as  was  necessary  and  were  rewarded 
with  adequate  results." 

Mr.  Foley  forgot  his  depression  for  an  instant, 
and  smiled. 

"  What  a  theorist  you  are !  It  all  depends  upon 
the  amount  of  insurance  you  take  up,  whether  the 
risk  is  covered.  We've  under-insured  for  many 


288  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

years,  thanks  to  that  little  kink  in  our  disposition. 
We  got  a  nasty  knock  in  South  Africa  and  we  had 
to  pay  our  own  loss.  It  did  us  good  for  a  year  or 
two.  Now  the  pendulum  has  just  reached  the  other 
extreme.  We've  swung  back  once  more  into  our  silly 
dream.  Oh,  Maraton,  it's  true  enough  that  we  have 
great  problems  to  face  sociologically!  Don't  think 
that  I  underrate  them.  You  know  I  don't.  But 
every  time  I  sit  and  talk  to  you,  I  have  always  at  the 
back  of  my  mind  that  other  fear.  .  .  .  Have  you 
seen  M axendorf  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  have  just  left  him,"  Maraton  replied. 

'*  An  interesting  interview  ?  " 

"Very!" 

Mr.  Foley  gripped  his  arm. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said, —  "  you  see,  I  am  beginning 
to  call  you  that  —  you  have  talked  to-night  with 
one  of  the  most  wonderful  and  the  most  dangerous 
enemies  of  our  country.  You  won't  think  me  drivel- 
ling, will  you,  or  presuming,  if  I  beg  you  to  remem- 
ber that  fact,  and  that  you  are,  notwithstanding  your 
foreign  birth,  one  of  us?  You  are  an  Englishman, 
a  member  of  the  English  House  of  Parliament." 

"  I  do  not  forget  that,"  Maraton  declared  gravely. 

"  Go  and  find  Lady  Elisabeth,"  Mr.  Foley  directed. 
"  She  was  a  little  hurt  at  the  idea  that  you  were  not 
coming.  I  have  a  few  more  words  to  say  to  Armley." 

Maraton  passed  on  into  the  rooms,  which  were 
only  half  filled.  Some  fancy  possessed  him  to  pause 
for  a  moment  in  the  spot  where  he  had  stood  alone 
for  some  time  on  his  first  visit  to  this  house,  and  as 
he  lingered  there,  Lady  Elisabeth  came  into  the  room, 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  289 

leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  great  lawyer.  She  saw  him 
almost  at  once  —  her  eyes,  indeed,  seemed  to  glance 
instinctively  towards  the  spot  where  he  was  standing. 
Maraton  felt  the  change  in  her  expression.  With 
a  whisper  she  left  her  escort  and  came  immediately 
in  his  direction.  He  watched  her,  step  by  step. 
Was  it  his  fancy  or  had  she  lost  some  of  the  haughti- 
ness of  carriage  which  he  had  noticed  that  night  not 
many  months  ago;  the  slight  coldness  which  in  those 
first  moments  had  half  attracted  and  half  repelled 
him?  Perhaps  it  was  because  he  was  now  admitted 
within  the  circle  of  her  friends.  She  came  to  him, 
at  any  rate,  quickly,  almost  eagerly,  and  the  smile 
about  her  lips  as  she  took  his  hand  was  one  of  real 
and  natural  pleasure. 

"  How  good  of  you !  "  she  murmured.  "  I  scarcely 
hoped  that  you  would  come.  You  have  been  with 
Maxendorf  ?  " 

He  nodded. 

"Is  it  a  confession?"  he  asked.  "It  was  Mr. 
Foley's  first  question  to  me." 

"  It  is  because  we  hate  and  distrust  the  man,"  she 
replied.  "  You  aren't  a  politician,  you  see,  Mr. 
Maraton.  You  don't  quite  appreciate  some  of  the 
forces  which  are  making  an  old  man  of  my  uncle 
to-day,  which  make  life  almost  intolerable  for  many 
of  us  when  we  think  seriously,"  she  went  on  simply. 

"  Aren't  you  exaggerating  that  sentiment  just  a 
little?  "  he  suggested. 

"  Not  a  particle,"  she  assured  him.  "  However* 
you  came  here  to  be  entertained,  didn't  you?  I 
won't  croak  to  you  any  more.  I  think  I  have  done 


ago  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

my  duty  for  this  evening.  Let  us  find  a  corner  and 
talk  like  ordinary  human  beings.  Are  you  going  in 
to  supper?  " 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  it,"  he  admitted. 

"  I  dined  at  seven  o'clock,"  she  told  him.  "  We 
seem  to  have  provided  supper  for  hundreds  of  peo- 
ple, and  I  am  sure  not  half  of  them  are  coming." 

They  passed  through  two  of  the  rooms  into  a 
long,  low  apartment  which  led  into  the  winter  gar- 
dens. At  one  end  refreshments  were  being  served, 
and  the  rest  of  the  space  was  taken  up  with  little 
tables.  Elisabeth  led  him  to  one  placed  just  inside 
the  winter  garden.  A  footman  filled  their  glasses 
with  champagne. 

"  Now  we  are  going  to  be  normal  human  beings," 
she  declared.  "  How  much  I  wish  that  you  really 
were  a  normal  human  being ! " 

"  In  what  respect  am  I  different  ? " 

"  You  know  quite  well,"  she  answered.  "  I  should 
like  you  to  be  what  you  seem  to  be  —  just  a  capable, 
clever,  rising  politician,  with  a  place  in  the  Cabinet 
before  you,  working  for  your  country,  sincere,  free 
from  all  these  strange  notions." 

"  Working  for  my  country,"  he  repeated.  "  That 
is  just  the  difficult  part  of  the  whole  situation,  now- 
adays. I  know  that  I  am  rather  a  trouble  to  your 
uncle.  Sometimes  I  fear  that  I  may  become  even 
a  greater  trouble.  It  is  so  hard  to  adopt  the  attitude 
which  you  suggest  when  one  feels  the  intolerable 
situation  which  exists  in  that  country." 

"  But  we  are  on  the  highroad  now  to  great  re- 
forms," she  reminded  him.  "  Another  decade  of 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  291 

years,  and  the  people  whom  you  worship  will  surely 
be  lifting  their  heads." 

He  smiled  as  she  looked  across  at  him  with  a  puz- 
zled air. 

"  It  is  strange,"  she  remarked,  "  that  you,  too, 
have  the  appearance  of  a  man  dissatisfied  with  him- 
self. I  wonder  why?  Surely  you  must  feel  that 
everything  has  gone  your  way  since  you  came  to 
England?" 

"  I  am  not  sure  how  I  feel  about  it,"  he  replied. 
"  Think !  I  came  with  different  ideas.  I  came  with 
a  religion  which  admitted  no  compromises,  and  I 
have  accepted  a  compromise." 

"  A  wise  and  a  sane  one,"  she  declared,  almost 
passionately.  "  And  to-night  —  tell  me,  am  I  not 
right  ?  —  to-night  there  have  been  those  who  have 
sought  to  upset  it  in  your  mind." 

"  You  are  clairvoyant." 

"  Not  I,  but  it  is  so  easy  to  see !  It  is  the  dream 
of  Maxendorf's  life  to  bring  England  to  the  verge 
of  a  revolution  by  paralysing  her  industries.  Better 
for  him,  that,  than  any  violent  scheme  of  conquest. 
If  he  can  stop  the  engine  that  drives  the  wheels  of 
the  country,  they  can  come  over  in  tourist  steamers 
and  tell  us  how  to  govern  it  better." 

"  And  if  they  did,"  he  asked  quickly,  "  isn't  it 
possible  that  their  rule  over  the  people  might  be 
better  than  the  rule  of  this  stubborn  generation  ?  " 

She  drew  herself  up.     Her  eyes  flashed  with  anger. 

"  Haven't  you  a  single  gleam  of  patriotism?  "  she 
demanded. 

He  sighed. 


292  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  I  think  that  I  have,"  he  replied,  "  and  yet,  it 
lies  at  the  back  of  my  thoughts,  at  the  back  of  my 
heart.  It  is  more  like  an  artistic  inspiration,  one 
of  those  things  that  lie  among  the  pleasant  impulses 
of  life.  Right  in  the  foreground  I  see  the  great 
groaning  cycle  of  humanity  being  flung  from  the 
everlasting  wheels  into  the  bottomless  abyss.  I  can- 
not take  my  eyes  from  the  people,  you  see." 

She  sat  almost  rigid  for  some  brief  space  of  time. 
A  servant  was  arranging  plates  in  front  of  them, 
their  glasses  were  refilled,  the  music  of  a  waltz  stole 
in  through  the  open  door.  Around  them  many  other 
people  were  sitting.  An  atmosphere  of  gaiety  began 
gradually  to  develop.  Maraton  watched  his  com- 
panion closely.  Her  eyes  were  full  of  trouble,  her 
sensitive  mouth  quivering  a  little.  There  was  a 
straight  line  across  her  forehead.  Her  fair  hair  was 
arranged  in  great  coils,  without  a  single  ornament. 
She  wore  no  jewels  at  all  save  a  single  string  of  pearls 
around  her  slim  white  neck.  Maraton,  as  the  mo- 
ments passed,  was  conscious  of  a  curious  weakening, 
a  return  of  that  same  thrill  which  the  sound  of  her 
voice  that  first  day  —  half  imperious,  half  gracious 
—  had  incited  in  him.  He  waved  his  hand  towards 
the  crowd  of  those  who  supped  around  them. 

"  Let  us  forget,"  he  begged.  "  I,  too,  feel  that 
I  have  more  in  my  mind  to-night  than  my  brain  can 
cope  with.  Let  us  rest  for  a  little  time." 

Her  face  lightened. 

"  We  will,"  she  assented  gladly.  •  "  Only,  do  re- 
member what  my  constant  prayer  about  you  is. 
Things,  you  know,  in  some  respects  must  go  on  as 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  293 

they  are,  and  the  country  needs  its  strongest  sons. 
Mr.  Foley  would  like  to  bring  you  even  closer  to  him. 
I  know  he  is  simply  aching  with  impatience  to  have 
you  in  the  Cabinet.  Don't  do  anything  rash,  Mr. 
Maraton.  Don't  do  anything  which  would  make  it 
impossible.  There  are  many  beautiful  theories  in 
life  which  would  be  simply  hateful  failures  if  one 
tried  to  bring  them  into  practice.  Try  to  remem- 
ber that  experience  goes  for  something.  And  now 
—  finished!  Tell  me  about  Sheffield?  I  read  Seling- 
man's  marvellous  article.  One  could  almost  see  the 
whole  scene  there.  How  I  should  love  to  hear  you 
speak !  Not  in  Parliament  —  I  don't  mean  that.  I 
almost  realise  how  impossible  you  find  that." 

"  It  is  only  a  matter  of  earnestness,"  he  replied, 
"  and  a  certain  aptitude  for  forming  phrases  quickly. 
No  one  can  feel  deeply  ^about  anything  and  not  find 
themselves  more  or  less  eloquent  when  they  come  to 
talk  about  it.  By  the  bye,  have  you  ever  met  Seling- 
man?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  My  uncle  knew  him.  He  tells  me  that  he  asked 
him  here  to-night.  I  wish  that  he  had  come.  And 
yet,  I  am  not  sure.  Some  of  his  writings  I  have 
hated.  He,  too,  is  a  theorist,  isn't  he?  I  won- 
der—" 

She  paused,   and  looked  expectant. 

"  I  often  wonder,"  she  went  on,  "  is  there  nothing 
else  in  your  life  at  all  except  this  passionate  altru- 
ism? In  your  younger  life,  for  instance,  weren't 
there  ever  any  sports  or  occupations  that  you  cared 
for?  " 


294  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

'*  Yes,"  he  admitted  slowly,  "  for  some  years  I  did 
a  good  many  of  the  usual  things." 

"  And  now  the  desire  for  them  has  all  gone,"  she 
asked,  "  haven't  you  any  personal  hopes  or  dreams 
in  connection  with  life?  Isn't  there  anything  you 
look  forward  to  or  desire  for  yourself?  " 

"  I  seem  to  have  so  little  time.  And  yet,  one  has 
dreams  —  one  always  must  have  dreams,  you  know." 

"  Tell  me  about  yours?  "  she  insisted. 

He  sat  up  abruptly.  Her  fingers  fell  upon  his 
arm. 

"  We  will  go  and  sit  under  my  rose  tree,"  she  sug- 
gested. 

They  moved  back  into  the  winter  garden  until 
they  came  to  a  seat  at  its  furthest  extremity.  A 
fountain  was  playing  a  few  yards  away,  and  clusters 
of  great  pink  roses  were  drooping  down  from  some 
trellis-work  before  them. 

"  Here,  at  least,"  she  continued,  as  she  leaned 
back,  "  we  will  not  be  tempted  to  talk  seriously.  Tell 
me  about  yourself?  Do  you  never  look  forward  into 
the  future?  Have  you  no  personal  ambitions  or 
hopes  ?  " 

He  looked  steadily  ahead  of  him. 

"  I  am  only  a  very  ordinary  man,"  he  replied. 
"  Like  every  one  else,  sometimes  I  look  up  to  the 
clouds." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  see  there  ?  "  she  begged. 

He  was  silent.  The  sound  of  voices  now  came  to 
them  like  a  distant  murmur,  a  background  to  the 
slow  falling  of  the  water  into  the  fountain  basin. 

"  Lady  Elisabeth,"  he  said,  "  it  is  not  always  pos- 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  295 

sible  to  tell  even  one's  own  self  what  the  thoughts 
mean  which  come  into  one's  brain." 

"  You  will  not  even  try  to  tell  me,  then?  " 

"  I  must  not,"  he  answered. 

She  sat  with  her  hands  folded  in  front  of  her,  her 
head  drooped  a  little.  Maraton  felt  himself  suddenly 
at  war  with  a  whole  multitude  of  emotions.  Was  it 
possible  that  this  thing  had  come  to  him,  that  a 
woman  could  take  the  great  place  in  his  life,  a 
woman  not  of  his  kind,  one  who  could  not  even  share 
the  passion  which  was  to  have  absorbed  every  impulse 
of  his  existence  to  the  end?  She  was  of  a  different 
world.  Perhaps  it  had  all  been  a  mistake.  Perhaps 
it  would  have  been  better  for  him  to  have  stayed  out- 
side, to  have  never  crossed  the  little  borderland  which 
led  into  the  land  of  compromises.  And  all  the  time, 
while  his  brain  was  at  work,  something  stronger, 
more  wonderful,  was  throbbing  in  his  heart.  He 
moved  restlessly  in  his  place.  Her  ungloved  hand  lay 
within  a  few  inches  of  him.  He  suddenly  caught  it. 

"  Lady  Elisabeth,"  he  whispered,  "  I  feel  like  a 
traitor.  I  feel  myself  moved  to  say  things  to  you 
under  false  pretences.  I  ought  not  to  have  come 
here." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded.  "You 
can't  mean  — " 

Their  eyes  met.     He  read  the  truth  unerringly. 

"  No,  not  that,"  he  answered.  "  There  is  no  one. 
What  I  feel  is,  at  any  rate,  consecrate.  But  I  have 
no  right.  I  am  not  sure,  even  at  this  moment, 
whether  it  is  not  in  my  heart  to  take  a  step  which 
you  would  look  upon  as  the  blackest  ingratitude.  My 


2g6  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

life,  Lady  Elisabeth,  holds  issues  in  it  far  apart,  and 
it  is  vowed,  dedicate." 

"  You  are  going  to  break  away  ? "  she  asked 
quietly. 

"I  may,"  he  admitted.  "That  is  the  truth. 
That  is  why  I  hesitated  about  coming  here  to-night. 
And  yet,  I  wanted  to  come.  I  wasn't  sure  why.  I 
know  now  —  it  was  to  see  you." 

"Oh,  don't  be  rash!"  she  begged.  "Don't!  I 
may  talk  to  you  now  really  from  my  heart,  mayn't 
I  ?  "  she  went  on,  looking  steadfastly  into  his  face. 
"  Don't  imagine  that  that  great  gulf  exists.  It 
doesn't.  If  you  break  away,  it  will  be  a  mistake. 
You  want  to  feel  your  feet  upon  the  clouds.  You 
don't  know  how  much  safer  you  will  be  if  you  keep 
them  upon  the  earth.  You  may  bring  incalculable 
suffering  and  misery  upon  the  very  people  whom 
you  wish  to  benefit.  You  think  that  I  am  a  woman, 
perhaps,  and  I  know  little.  Yes,  but  sometimes  we 
who  are  outside  see  much,  and  it  is  dangerous,  you 
know,  to  act  upon  theories.  I  haven't  spoken  a  sin- 
gle selfish  word,  have  I?  I  haven't  tried  to  tell  you 
how  much  I  should  hate  to  lose  you." 

He  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  I  am  going  away,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  I  must 
fight  this  thing  out  alone.  But  — " 

He  looked  around.  The  words  seemed  to  fail  him. 
Their  little  corner  of  the  winter  garden  was  still 
uninvaded. 

"  But,  Lady  Elisabeth,"  he  continued,  "  you  know 
the  thing  which  makes  it  harder  for  me  than  ever. 
You  know  very  well  that  if  I  decide  to  do  what  must 


"I  am  going  away,"  he  said  hoarsely.     Page  296., 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  297 

make  me  a  stranger  in  this  household,  I  shall  do  it 
at  a  personal  sacrifice  which  I  never  dreamed  could 
exist." 

She  swayed  a  little  towards  him.  Her  face  was 
suddenly  changed,  alluring;  her  eyes  pleaded  with 
him. 

"  You  mustn't  go  away,"  she  whispered.  "  If  you 
go  now,  you  must  come  back  —  do  you  hear?  —  you 
must  come  back !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

It  was  the  eve  of  the  reopening  of  Parliament. 
Maraton,  who  had  been  absent  from  London  —  no 
one  knew  where  —  during  the  last  six  weeks,  had 
suddenly  reappeared.  Once  more  he  had  invited  the 
committee  of  the  Labour  Party  to  meet  at  his  house. 
His  invitation  was  accepted,  but  it  was  obvious  that 
this  time  their  attitude  towards  the  man  who  wel- 
comed them  was  one  of  declared  and  pronounced  hos- 
tility. Graveling  was  there,  with  sullen,  evil  face. 
He  made  no  attempt  to  shake  hands  with  Maraton, 
and  he  sat  at  the  table  provided  for  them  with  folded 
arms  and  dour,  uncompromising  aspect.  Dale  came 
late  and  he,  too,  greeted  Maraton  with  bluff  un- 
friendliness. Borden's  attitude  was  non-committal. 
Weavel  shook  hands,  but  his  frown  and  manner  were 
portentous.  Culvain,  the  diplomat  of  the  party,  was 
quiet  and  reserved.  David  Ross  alone  had  never  lost 
his  attitude  of  unwavering  fidelity.  He  sat  at  Mara- 
ton's  left  hand,  his  head  a  little  drooped,  his  eyes 
almost  hidden  beneath  his  shaggy  grey  eyebrows,  his 
lower  lip  protuberant.  He  had,  somehow,  the  air  of 
a  guarding  dog,  ready  to  spring  into  bitter  words  if 
his  master  were  touched. 

"  Gentlemen,"  Maraton  began,  when  at  last  they 
were  all  assembled,  "  I  have  asked  you,  the  committee 
who  were  appointed  to  meet  me  on  my  arrival  in 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  299 

England,  to  meet  me  once  more  here  on  the  eve  of 
the  reopening  of  Parliament." 

There  was  a  grim  silence.  No  one  spoke.  Their 
general  attitude  was  one  of  suspicious  waiting. 

"  You  all  know,"  Maraton  went  on,  "  with  what 
ideas  I  first  came  to  England.  I  found,  however, 
that  circumstances  here  were  in  many  respects  differ- 
ent from  anything  I  had  imagined.  You  all  know 
that  I  modified  my  plans.  I  decided  to  adopt  a  mid- 
dle course." 

"  A  seat  in  Parliament,"  Graveling  muttered, 
'*  and  a  place  at  the  Prime  Minister's  dinner  table." 

*'  For  some  reason  or  other,"  Maraton  continued, 
unruffled,  "  my  coming  into  Parliament  seemed  ob- 
noxious to  Mr.  Dale  and  most  of  ydu.  I  decided  in 
favour  of  that  course,  however,  because  the  offer 
made  me  by  Mr.  Foley  was  one  which,  in  the  interests 
of  the  people,  I  could  not  refuse.  Mr.  Foley  has 
done  his  best  to  keep  to  the  terms  of  his  compact 
with  me.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  that  he  has  kept 
to  it.  The  successful  termination  of  the  Lancashire 
strike  is  due  entirely  to  his  efforts.  The  prolong- 
ation of  the  Sheffield  strike  is  in  no  way  his  fault. 
The  blind  stupidity  of  the  masters  was  too  much 
even  for  him.  The  position  has  developed  very 
much  as  I  feared  it  might.  You  cannot  make  em- 
ployers see  reason  by  Act  of  Parliament.  Mr.  Foley 
kept  his  word.  He  has  been  on  the  side  of  the  men 
throughout  this  struggle.  He  has  used  every  atom 
of  influence  he  possesses  to  compel  the  employers  to 
give  in.  Temporarily  he  has  failed  —  only  tem- 
porarily, mind,  for  a  Bill  will  be  introduced  into 


300  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Parliament  during  this  session  which  will  very  much 
alter  the  position  of  the  employers.  But  this  partial 
failure  has  convinced  me  of  one  thing.  This  is  too 
law-abiding  a  country  for  compromises.  For  the  last 
six  weeks  I  have  been  travelling  on  the  Continent. 
I  have  realised  how  splendidly  Labour  has  emanci- 
pated itself  there  compared  to  its  slow  progress  in 
this  country.  From  town  to  town  in  northern  Eu- 
rope I  passed,  and  found  the  great  industries  of  the 
various  districts  in  the  hands  of  a  composite  body 
of  men,  embracing  the  boy  learning  the  simplest 
machine  and  the  financier  in  the  office,  every  man 
there  working  like  a  single  part  of  one  huge  machine, 
each  for  the  profit  of  the  whole.  A  genuine  scheme 
of  profit-sharing  is  there  being  successfully  carried 
out.  It  is  owing  to  this  visit,  and  the  convictions 
which  have  come  to  me  from  the  same,  that  I  have 
called  you  together  to-day." 

"  You  invited  us,"  Peter  Dale  remarked  deliber- 
ately, "  and  here  we  are.  As  to  what  good's  likely 
to  come  of  our  meeting,  that's  another  matter. 
There's  no  denying  the  fact  that  we've  not  been  able 
to  work  together  up  till  now,  and  whether  we  shall 
in  the  future  is  by  no  means  clear." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  so,  Mr.  Dale,"  Mara- 
ton  declared.  "  I  only  hope  that  before  you  go  you 
will  have  changed  your  mind." 

"  Not  in  the  least  likely,  that  I  can  see,"  Peter 
Dale  retorted.  "  For  my  part,  I  can't  reckon  up 
what  you  want  with  us.  You've  gone  into  the  House 
on  your  own  and  you've  chosen  to  sit  in  a  place  by 
yourself.  You've  tried  your  best  to  manage  things 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  301 

according  to  your  own  way  of  thinking,  without  us. 
Now,  all  of  a  sudden,  you  invite  us  here.  I  wonder 
whether  this  has  anything  to  do  with  it." 

With  some  deliberation,  Peter  Dale  produced  from 
his  pocket  a  letter,  which  he  smoothed  out  upon  the 
table  before  him.  He  had  the  air  of  a  man  who  pre- 
pares a  bombshell.  Maraton  stretched  out  his  hand 
toward  it. 

"  Is  that  for  me?  "  he  asked. 

Peter  Dale  kept  his  fingers  upon  it. 

"  Its  contents  concern  you,"  he  announced.  "  I'll 
read  it,  if  you'll  be  so  good  as  to  listen.  Came  as  a 
bit  of  a  shock  to  us,  I  must  confess.*' 

"  Anonymous  ?  "  Maraton  murmured. 

"  If  its  contents  are  untrue,"  Peter  Dale  said, 
"  you  will  be  able  to  contradict  them.  With  your 
kind  permission,  then.  Listen,  everybody: 

"  '  Dear  Sir: 

"  *  The  following  facts  concerning  a  recent  addi- 
tion to  the  ranks  of  your  Party  should,  I  think,  be 
of  some  interest  to  you. 

"  *  The  proper  name  of  Mr.  Maraton  is  Mr.  Mara- 
ton Lawes. 

" '  Mr.  Maraton  Lawes  and  a  younger  brother 
were  once  the  possessors  of  the  world-famous  Lawes 
Oil  Springs,  and  are  now  the  principal  shareholders 
in  the  Lawes  Oil  Company. 

"  '  The  person  in  question  is  a  millionaire. 

"  '  A  Socialist  millionaire  who  conceals  the  fact 
of  his  wealth  and  keeps  his  purse  closed,  is  a  person, 
I  think,  open  to  criticism. 


302  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  *  A  sketch  of  Mr.  Maraton  Lawes'  career  will 
shortly  appear  in  an  evening  paper.' ' 

Maraton  listened  without  change  of  countenance. 
All  eyes  were  turned  upon  him. 

"  Well?  "  he  enquired  nonchalantly. 

"  Is  this  true  ?  "  Peter  Dale  demanded. 

Maraton  inclined  his  head. 

"  The  writer,"  he  said,  "  a  man  named  Beldeman, 
I  am  sure  has  been  singularly  moderate  in  his  state- 
ments. I  have  been  expecting  the  article  to  appear 
for  some  time." 

They  were  all  of  them  apparently  afflicted  with 
a  curious  combination  of  emotions.  They  were 
angry,  and  yet  —  with  the  exception  of  Graveling  — 
there  was  beneath  their  anger  some  evidence  of  that 
curious  respect  for  wealth  prevalent  amongst  their 
order.  They  looked  at  Maraton  with  a  new  interest. 

"  A  millionaire ! "  Peter  Dale  exclaimed  impres- 
sively. "  You  admit  it !  You  —  a  Socialist  —  a 
people's  man,  as  you've  called  yourself!  And  never 
a  word  to  one  of  us !  Never  a  copper  of  your  money 
to  the  Party!  I  repeat  it  —  not  one  copper  have 
we  seen ! " 

The  man's  cheeks  were  flushed  with  anger,  his 
brows  lowered.  Something  of  his  indignation  was 
reflected  in  the  faces  of  all  of  them  —  momentarily 
a  queer  sort  of  cupidity  seemed  to  have  stolen  into 
their  expressions.  Maraton  shrugged  his  shoulders 
slightly. 

"  Why  should  I  subscribe  to  your  Party  funds  ?  " 
he  asked  calmly.  "  Some  of  you  do  good  work,  no 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  303 

doubt,  and  yet  there  is  no  such  destroyer  of  good 
work  as  money.  Work,  individual  effort,  unselfish  en- 
thusiasm, are  the  torches  which  should  light  on  your 
cause.  Money  would  only  serve  the  purpose  of  a 
slow  poison  amongst  you." 

"  Prattle !  "  Abraham  Weavel  muttered. 

**  Rot !  "  Peter  Dale  agreed.  "  Just  another  ques- 
tion, Mr.  Maraton:  Why  have  you  kept  this  secret 
from  us  ?  " 

"  I  will  make  a  statement,"  Maraton  replied  coolly. 
"  Perhaps  it  will  save  needless  questions.  My  money 
is  derived  from  oil  springs.  I  prospected  for  them 
myself,  and  I  have  had  to  fight  for  them.  It  was 
in  wilder  days  than  you  know  of  here.  I  have  a 
younger  brother,  or  rather  a  half-brother,  whom  I 
was  sorry  to  see  over  here  the  other  day,  who  is  my 
partner.  My  average  profits  are  twenty-eight  thou- 
sand pounds  a  year.  Ten  thousand  pounds  goes  to 
the  support  of  a  children's  home  in  New  York;  the 
remainder  is  distributed  in  other  directions  amongst 
institutions  for  the  rescue  of  children.  Five  thou- 
sand a  year  I  keep  for  myself." 

"  Five  thousand  a  year ! "  Peter  Dale  gasped  in- 
dignantly. "  Did  you  hear  that  ?  "  he  added,  turning 
to  the  others. 

"  Four  hundred  a  year  and  a  hundred  and  fifty 
from  subscriptions,  and  that's  every  penny  I  have 
to  bring  up  seven  children  upon,"  Weavel  declared 
with  disgust. 

"  And  mine's  less  than  that,  and  the  subscriptions 
falling  off,"  Borden  grunted. 

"  What  sort  of  a  Socialist  is  a  man  with  five  thou- 


304  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

sand  a  year  who  keeps  his  pockets  tightly  buttoned 
up,  I  should  like  to  know?  "  Graveling  exclaimed 
angrily. 

Maraton  smiled. 

"  You  have  common  sense,  I  am  sure,  all  of  you,'* 
he  said.  "  In  fact,  no  one  could  possibty  accuse 
you  of  being  dreamers.  Every  effort  of  my  life  will 
be  devoted  towards  the  promulgation  of  my  beliefs, 
absolutely  without  regard  to  my  pecuniary  position. 
I  admit  that  the  possession  of  wealth  is  contrary  to 
the  principles  of  life  which  I  should  like  to  see  estab- 
lished. Still,  until  conditions  alter,  it  would  be  even 
more  contrary  to  my  principles  to  distribute  my 
money  in  charity  which  I  abominate,  or  to  weaken 
good  causes  by  unwholesome  and  unearned  contri- 
butions to  them.  Shall  we  now  proceed  to  the  sub- 
ject of  our  discussion?" 

"  What  is  it,  anyway  ? "  Peter  Dale  demanded 
gruffly.  "  Do  you  find  that  after  being  so  plaguey 
independent  you  need  our  help  after  all?  Is  that 
what  it  is  ?  " 

"  I  want  no  one's  help,"  Maraton  replied  quietly. 
"  I  only  want  to  give  you  this  earliest  notice  — 
because,  in  your  way,  you  do  represent  the  people  — 
that  it  is  my  intention  to  revert  to  my  first  ideas. 
I  have  arranged  a  tour  in  the  potteries  next  week. 
I  go  straight  on  to  Newcastle,  and  from  there  to 
Glasgow.  I  intend  to  preach  a  universal  strike.  I 
intend,  if  I  can,  to  bring  the  shipbuilders,  the  coal- 
miners,  the  dockers,  the  railroad  men,  out  on  strike, 
while  the  Sheffield  trouble  is  as  yet  unsolved.  What- 
ever may  come  of  it,  I  intend  that  the  Government 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  305 

of  this  country  shall  realise  how  much  their  pros- 
perity is  dependent  upon  the  people's  will." 

There  was  a  little  murmur.  Peter  Dale,  who  had 
filled  his  pipe,  was  puffing  away  steadily. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said  slowly,  "  Newcastle's  my 
job." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  Maraton  replied.  "  There  are  a  million 
and  a  quarter  of  miners  to  be  considered.  You  may 
be  the  representative  of  a  few  of  them.  I  am  not 
sure  that  in  this  matter  you  represent  their  wishes, 
if  you  are  for  peace.  I  am  going  to  see.'* 

"  As  for  the  potteries,"  Mr.  Borden  declared,  "  a 
strike  there's  overdue,  and  that's  certain,  but  if  all 
the  others  are  going  to  strike  at  the  same  time,  why, 
what's  the  good  of  it?  The  Unions  can't  stand  it." 

"  We  have  tried  striking  piecemeal,"  Maraton 
pointed  out.  "  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  that  it's  a  suc- 
cess. What  is  called  the  Government  here  can  deal 
with  one  strike  at  a  time.  They've  soldiers  enough, 
and  law  enough,  for  that.  They  haven't  for  a  uni- 
versal strike." 

Peter  Dale  struck  the  table  with  his  clenched  fist. 
His  expression  was  grim  and  his  tone  truculent. 

"  What  I  say  is  this,"  he  pronounced.  "  I'm  dead 
against  any  interference  from  outsiders.  If  I  think 
a  strike's  good  for  my  people,  well,  I'll  blow  the 
whistle.  If  you're  for  Newcastle  next  week,  Mr. 
Maraton,  so  am  I.  If  you're  for  preaching  a  strike, 
well,  I'm  for  preaching  against  it." 

"  Hear,  hear !  "  Graveling  exclaimed.  "  I'm  with 
you." 

Maraton  smiled  a  little  bitterly. 


3o6  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  As  you  will,  Mr.  Dale,"  he  replied.  "  But  re- 
member, you'll  have  to  seek  another  constituency  next 
time  you  want  to  come  into  Parliament.  Do  be  rea- 
sonable," he  went  on.  "  Do  you  suppose  the  people 
will  listen  to  you  preaching  peace  and  contentment? 
They'll  whip  you  out  of  the  town." 

"  It's  the  carpet-bagger  that  will  have  to  go  first !  " 
Dale  declared  vigorously.  "  There's  no  two  ways 
about  that." 

Maraton  sighed. 

"  Sometimes,"  he  said,  looking  around  at  them,  "  I 
feel  that  it  must  be  my  fault  that  there  has  never 
been  any  sympathy  between  us.  Sometimes  I  am 
sure  that  it  is  yours.  Don't  you  ever  look  a  little 
way  beyond  the  actual  wants  of  your  own  constitu- 
ents? Don't  you  ever  peer  over  the  edge  and  realise 
that  the  real  cause  of  the  people  is  no  local  matter? 
It  is  a  great  blow  for  their  freedom,  this  which  I  mean 
to  strike.  I'd  like  to  have  had  you  all  with  me.  It's 
a  huge  responsibility  for  one." 

"  It's  revolution,"  Culvain  muttered.  "  You  may 
call  that  a  responsibility,  indeed.  Who's  going  to 
feed  the  people?  Who's  going  to  keep  them  from 
pillaging  and  rioting?  " 

"  No  one,"  Maraton  replied  quietly.  "  A  revolu- 
tion is  inevitable.  Perhaps  after  that  we  may  have 
to  face  the  coming  of  a  foreign  enemy.  And  yet, 
even  with  this  contingency  in  view,  I  want  you  to 
ask  yourselves:  What  have  the  people  to  lose? 
Those  who  will  suffer  by  anything  that  could  possibly 
happen,  will  be  the  wealthy.  From  those  who  have 
not,  nothing  can  be  taken.  What  I  prophesy  is  that 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  307 

in  the  next  phase  of  our  history,  a  new  era  will  dawn. 
Our  industries  will  be  re-established  upon  different 
lines.  The  loss  entailed  by  the  revolution,  by  the 
dislocating  of  all  our  industries,  will  fall  upon  the 
people  who  are  able  and  who  deserve  to  pay  for  it." 

There  was  a  moment's  grim  silence.  Then  David 
Ross  suddenly  lifted  his  head. 

"It's  a  great  blow!"  he  cried.  "It's  the  hand 
of  the  Lord  falling  upon  the  land,  long  overdue  — 
too  long  overdue.  The  man's  right!  This  people 
have  had  a  century  to  set  their  house  in  order.  The 
warning  has  been  in  their  ears  long  enough.  The 
thunder  has  muttered  so  long,  it's  time  the  storm 
should  break.  Let  ruin  come,  I  say !  " 

"  You  can  talk  any  silly  nonsense  you  like,  David 
Ross,"  Dale  declared  angrily,  "  but  what  I  say  is 
that  we  are  listening  to  the  most  dangerous  stuff 
any  man  ever  spouted.  What's  to  become  of  us, 
I'd  like  to  know,  with  a  revolution  in  the  country  ?  " 

"  You  would  probably  lose  your  jobs,"  Maraton 
answered  calmly.  "  What  does  it  matter?  There 
are  others  to  follow  you.  The  first  whom  the  people 
will  turn  upon  will  be  those  who  have  pulled  down 
the  pillars.  Our  names  will  be  hated  by  every  one 
of  them.  What  does  it  matter?  It  is  for  their 
good." 

Peter  Dale  doubled  up  his  fist  and  once  more  he 
smote  the  table  before  him. 

"  I  am  dead  against  you,  Maraton,"  he  announced. 
"  Put  that  in  your  pipe  and  smoke  it.  If  you  go  to 
Newcastle,  I  go  there  to  fight  you.  If  you  go  to 
any  of  the  places  in  this  country  represented  by  us, 


3o8  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

our  Member  will  be  there  to  fight.  We  are  in  Par- 
liament to  do  our  best  for  the  people  we  represent, 
bit  by  bit  as  we  can.  We  are  not  there  to  plunge 
the  country  into  a  revolution  and  run  the  risk  of  a 
foreign  invasion.  There  isn't  one  of  us  Englishmen 
here  who'll  agree  with  you  or  side  with  you  for  one 
moment." 

"  Hear,  hear !  "  they  all  echoed. 

"  Not  one,"  Graveling  interposed,  "  and  for  my 
part,  I  go  further.  I  say  that  the  man  who  stands 
there  and  talks  about  the  risk  of  a  foreign  invasion 
like  that,  is  no  Englishman.  I  call  him  a  traitor, 
and  if  the  thing  comes  he  speaks  of,  may  he  be  hung 
from  the  nearest  lamp-post!  That's  all  I've  got  to 
say." 

Maraton  opened  his  lips  and  closed  them  again. 
He  looked  slowly  down  that  wall  of  blank,  unsym- 
pathetic faces  and  he  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
Words  were  wasted  upon  them. 

"  Very  well,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  let  it  be  war. 
Perhaps  we'd  better  let  this  be  the  end  of  our  de- 
liberations." 

Graveling  rose  slowly  to  his  feet.  His  face  was 
filled  with  evil  things.  He  pointed  to  Maraton. 

"  There's  a  word  more  to  be  spoken ! "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  There's  more  behind  this  scheme  of  Mara- 
ton's  than  he's  willing  to  have  us  understand!  It 
looks  to  me  and  it  sounds  to  me  like  a  piece  of  dirty, 
underhand  business.  I'll  ask  you  a  question,  Mara- 
ton. Were  you  at  the  Ritz  Hotel  one  night  about 
two  months  ago,  with  the  ambassador  of  a  foreign 
country  ?  " 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  309 

<;  I  was,"  Maraton  admitted  coolly. 

Graveling  looked  around  with  a  little  cry  of  tri- 
umph. 

"  It's  a  plot,  this ;  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a 
plot !  "  he  declared  vigorously.  "  What  sort  of  an 
Englishman  does  he  call  himself,  I  wonder?  It's  the 
foreigners  that  are  at  the  bottom  of  the  lot  of  it! 
They  want  our  trade,  they'd  be  glad  of  our  country. 
They've  bribed  this  man  Maraton  to  get  it  without 
the  trouble  of  fighting  for  it,  even !  " 

Maraton  moved  towards  the  door.  Holding  it 
open,  he  turned  and  faced  them. 

"  Before  I  came,"  he  said,  "  I  hoped  that  you 
might  be  men.  I  find  you  just  the  usual  sort  of 
pigmies.  You  call  yourselves  people's  men!  You 
haven't  mastered  the  elementary  truths  of  your  re- 
ligion. What's  England,  or  France,  or  any  other 
country  in  the  world,  by  the  side  of  humanity?  Be 
off !  I'll  go  my  own  way.  Go  yours,  and  take  your 
little  tinsel  of  jingoism  with  you.  Whenever  you 
want  to  fight  me,  I  shall  be  ready." 

"  And  fight  you  we  shall,"  Peter  Dale  thundered, 
"  mark  you  that !  There's  limits,  even  to  us.  The 
Government  of  this  country  mayn't  be  all  it  should 
be,  but,  after  all,  it's  our  English  Government,  and 
there  is  a  point  at  which  every  man  has  to  support 
it.  The  law  is  the  law,  and  so  you  may  find  out,  my 
friend !  " 

They  filed  out.  Maraton  closed  the  door  after 
them.  He  was  alone.  He  threw  open  the  window 
to  get  rid  of  the  odour  of  tobacco  smoke  which  still 
hung  about.  The  echo  of  their  raucous  voices  seemed 


3io  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

still  in  the  air.  These  were  the  men  who  should  have 
been  his  friends  and  associates !  These  were  the  men 
to  whom  he  had  the  right  to  look  for  sympathy! 
They  treated  him  like  a  dangerous  lunatic.  Their 
own  small  interests,  their  own  small  careers  were 
threatened,  and  they  were  up  in  arms  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation.  Not  one  of  them  had  made  the 
slightest  attempt  to  see  the  whole  truth.  The  word 
"  revolution  "  had  terrified  them.  The  approach  of  a 
crisis  had  driven  their  thoughts  into  one  narrow 
focus :  what  would  it  mean  for  them  ? 

He  resumed  his  seat.  The  empty  chairs  pushed 
back  seemed,  somehow  or  other,  allegorical.  He  was 
alone.  The  man  for  whose  friendship  he  had  indeed 
felt  some  desire,  the  man  who  had  opened  his  hands 
and  heart  to  him  —  Stephen  Feley  —  would  know 
him  henceforth  no  more.  He  drew  his  thoughts  reso- 
lutely away  from  that  side  of  his  life,  closed  his  ears 
to  the  music  which  beat  there,  crushed  down  the 
fancies  which  sprang  up  so  easily  if  ever  he  relaxed 
his  hold  upon  his  will.  He  was  lonely ;  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  perhaps,  intensely  lonely.  In  all  the 
country  there  was  scarcely  a  human  being  who  would 
not  soon  look  upon  him  as  a  madman.  What  did  one 
live  for,  after  all?  Just  to  continue  the  dull,  hope- 
less struggle  —  to  fight  without  hope  of  reward,  to 
fight  with  oneself  as  well  as  with  the  world? 

The  door  was  opened  softly.  Julia  came  in.  Per- 
haps she  guessed  from  his  attitude  something  of  his 
trouble,  for  she  moved  at  once  to  his  side. 

"  They  have  gone  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  They  have  gone,"  he  admitted. 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  311 

She  sighed. 

"  I  shall  not  ask  you  anything,"  she  said,  "  be- 
cause I  know.  Pigs  of  men  —  pigs  with  their  noses 
to  the  ground !  How  can  they  lift  their  heads !  You 
could  not  make  them  understand !  " 

"  I  scarcely  tried,"  he  confessed.  "  They  have 
found  out,  for  one  thing,  that  I  am  wealthy,  a  fact 
that  does  not  concern  them  in  the  least,  and  they 
accused  me  of  it  as  though  it  were  a  crime.  It  was 
all  so  hopeless.  You  cannot  make  men  understand 
who  have  not  the  capacity  for  understanding.  You 
cannot  make  the  blind  see.  They  even  reminded  me 
that  they  were  Englishmen.  They  talked  the  usual 
rubbish  about  conquest  and  foreign  enemies  and 
patriotism." 

"  Clods !  "  she  muttered.     "  But  you  ?  " 

She  sat  down  beside  him,  her  eyes  full  of  light. 
She  laid  her  hands  boldly  upon  his. 

"You  will  not  let  yourself  be  discouraged?"  she 
pleaded.  "  Remember  that  even  if  you  are  alone  in 
the  world,  you  are  right.  You  fight  without  hope  of 
reward,  without  hope  of  appreciation.  You  will  be 
the  enemy  of  every  one,  and  yet  you  know  in  your 
heart  that  you  have  the  truth.  You  know  it,  and 
I  know  it,  and  Aaron  knows  it,  and  David  Ross  be- 
lieves it.  There  are  millions  of  others,  if  you  could 
only  find  them,  who  understand,  too  —  men  too  great 
to  come  out  from  their  studies  and  talk  claptrap  to 
the  mob.  There  are  other  people  in  the  world  who 
understand,  who  will  sympathise.  What  does  it  mat- 
ter that  you  cannot  hear  their  spoken  voices?  And 
we  —  well,  you  know  about  us." 


3i2  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Her  voice  was  almost  a  caress,  the  loneliness  in  his 
heart  was  so  intense. 

"  Oh,  you  know  about  us !  "  she  continued.  "I  — 
oh,  I  am  your  slave!  And  Aaron!  We  believe,  we 
understand.  There  isn't  anything  in  this  world,"  she 
went  on,  with  a  little  sob,  "  there  isn't  anything  I 
wouldn't  gladly  do  to  help  you!  If  only  one  could 
help ! " 

He  returned  very  gently  the  pressure  of  her  burn- 
ing fingers.  She  drew  his  eyes  towards  hers,  and  he 
was  startled  to  see  in  those  few  minutes  how  beautiful 
she  was.  There  was  inspiration  in  her  splendidly 
modelled  face  —  the  high  forehead,  the  eyes  bril- 
liantly clear,  kindled  now  with  the  light  of  enthu- 
siasm and  all  the  softer  burning  of  her  exquisite 
sympathy.  Her  lips  —  full  and  red  they  seemed  — 
were  slightly  parted.  She  was  breathing  quickly, 
like  one  who  has  run  a  race. 

"  Oh,  dear  master,"  she  whispered, — "  let  me  call 
you  that  —  don't,  even  for  a  moment,  be  faint- 
hearted ! " 

The  door  was  suddenly  thrown  open.  Selingman 
entered,  an  enormous  bunch  of  roses  in  his  hand,  a 
green  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

"  Faint-hearted?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What  a  word ! 
Who  is  faint-hearted?  Julia,  I  have  brought  you 
flowers.  You  would  have  to  kiss  me  for  them  if  he 
were  not  here.  Don't  glower  at  me.  Every  one 
kisses  me.  Great  ladies  would  if  I  asked  them  to. 
That's  the  best  of  being  a  genius.  Lord,  what  a 
wreck  he  looks!  What's  wrong  with  you,  man?  I 
know !  I  met  them  at  the  corner  of  the  street.  There 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  313. 

was  the  rat-faced  fellow  with  the  red  tie,  and  the 
miner  —  Labour  Members,  they  call  themselves.  I 
would  like  to  see  them  with  a  spade !  Have  you  been 
trying  to  get  at  their  brains,  Maraton?  What's 
that  to  make  a  man  like  you  depressed?  Did  you 
think  they  had  any?  Did  you  think  you  could  draw 
a  single  spark  of  fire  out  of  dull  pap  like  that? 
Bah ! " 

Julia  was  moving  quietly  about  the  room,  putting 
the  flowers  in  water.  Aaron  had  slipped  in  and  was 
seated  before  his  desk.  Selingman,  his  broad  face 
set  suddenly  into  hard  lines,  plumped  himself  into 
the  chair  which  Peter  Dale  had  occupied. 

"  Man  alive,  lift  your  head  — -  lift  your  head  to 
the  skies !  "  he  ordered.  "  You're  the  biggest  man 
in  this  country.  Will  you  treat  the  prick  of  a  pin 
like  a  mortal  wound?  What  did  you  expect  from- 
them?  Lord  Almighty!  .  .  .  I've  packed  my  bag. 
I'm  ready  for  the  road.  Two  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  a  time  from  the  Dcdly  Oracle  for  thumbnail 
sketches  of  the  Human  Firebrand !  Lord,  what  is 
any  one  depressed  for  in  this  country!  It's  chock- 
full  cf  humour.  If  I  lived  here  long,  I  should  be 
fat." 

He  looked  downward  at  his  figure  with  compla- 
cency. Julia  laughed  softly. 

"  Aren't  you  fat  now?  "  she  asked. 

"  Immense,"  he  confessed,  "  but  it's  nothing  to 
what  I  could  be.  It  agrees  with  me,"  he  went  on. 
"  You  see,  I  have  learnt  the  art  of  being  satisfied 
with  myself.  I  know  what  I  am.  I  am  content. 
That  is  where  you,  my  friend  Maraton,  need  to  grow 


3i4  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

a  little  older.  Oh,  you  are  great  enough,  great 
enough  if  you  only  knew  it!  Even  Maxendorf  ad- 
mits that,  and  he  told  me  frankly  he's  disappointed 
in  you.  Don't  sit  there  like  a  dumb  figure  any 
longer.  We  are  all  coming  with  you,  aren't  we? 
I  have  brought  my  car  over  from  Belgium.  It  is  a 
caravan.  It  will  hold  us  all  —  Aaron,  too.  Let  us 
start ;  let  us  get  out  of  this  accursed  city.  Where  is 
the  first  move?  " 

"  We  can't  leave  to-night,"  Maraton  said.  "  I  am 
addressing  a  meeting  of  the  representatives  of  the 
Amalgamated  Railway  Workers  —  that  is,  if  Peter 
Dale  doesn't  manage  to  stop  it.  He'll  do  his  best." 

"  He  won't  succeed,"  Aaron  declared  eagerly.  "  I 
saw  Ernshaw  two  hours  ago.  They're  on  to  Peter 
Dale  and  his  move.  Do  you  know  why  Peter  Dale 
was  late  here  this  afternoon  ?  He'd  been  to  Downing 
Street.  I  heard.  Foley's  lost  you,  but  he's  holding 
on  to  the  Labour  Party.  He's  pitting  the  Labour 
Party  against  you  in  the  country." 

Selingman  laughed  heartily. 

"He's  got  it!"  he  exclaimed.  "That's  the 
scheme.  I  am  all  for  a  fight,  spoiling  for  it.  Fight- 
ing and  eating  are  the  grandest  things  in  the  world! 
What  time  is  the  meeting?  " 

"  Seven  o'clock,"  Maraton  replied. 

"  Two  hours  we  will  give  you,"  Selingman  con- 
tinued. "  Nine  o'clock,  a  little  restaurant  I  know  in 
the  West  End,  the  four  of  us  before  we  start.  We 
will  do  ourselves  well." 

"  Before  I  leave  London,"  Maraton  said,  "  I  must 
see  Maxendorf  once  more." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  315 

Selingman  stroked  his  face  thoughtfully. 

"  Your  risk,"  he  remarked.  "  Don't  you  let  these 
chaps  think  you  are  mixed  up  with  Maxendorf." 

"  I  must  see  Maxendorf,"  Maraton  insisted. 
"  When  I  leave  London  to-night,  the  die  is  cast.  I 
have  cut  myself  adrift  from  everything  in  life.  I 
shall  make  enemies  with  every  class  of  society. 
There  must  be  one  word  more  pass  between  Maxen- 
dorf and  me  before  I  hold  up  the  torch." 

"  He's  got  it,"  Selingman  declared.  "  The  trick 
is  on  him  already.  Maxendorf  he  shall  see.  I  will 
arrange  a  meeting  somewhere  —  not  at  the  hotel. 
Miss  Julia,  write  down  this  address.  This  is  where 
we  all  meet  at  nine.  Half-past  six  now.  I  will  take 
you  round  to  your  meeting,  Maraton.  Do  you  want 
any  papers  ?  " 

"  I  want  no  papers,"  Maraton  answered.  "  I 
speak  to  these  men  to-night  as  I  shall  speak  to  them 
in  the  north.  I  take  no  papers  from  London  with 
me,  no  figures,  nothing.  It  is  just  the  things  I  see 
I  want  to  tell  them." 

Selingman  nodded. 

"  You  shall  speak  immortal  words,"  he  declared. 
"  And  I  —  I  am  the  one  man  in  the  world  to  tran- 
scribe them,  to  write  in  the  background,  to  give 
them  colour  and  point.  What  giants  we  are,  Mara- 
ton —  you  with  your  stream  of  words,  and  I  with 
my  pen !  Miss  Julia,"  he  added,  "  remember  that 
you  are  to  be  our  inspiration  as  well  as  my  secretary. 
Put  on  your  prettiest  clothes  to-night.  It  is  our  last 
holiday." 

She  looked  at  him  coldly. 


316  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  I  do  not  wear  pretty  clothes,"  she  said. 

"  Little  fool ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Just  because 
you've  the  big  things  beating  in  your  brain,  you'd 
like  to  close  your  eyes  to  the  fact  that  your  sex  is 
the  most  wonderful  thing  on  God's  earth.  That's 
the  worst  of  a  woman.  If  ever  she  begins  to  think 
seriously,  she  does  her  hair  in  a  lump,  changes  sillf 
for  cotton,  forgets  her  corsets,  and  leaves  off  rib- 
bons. Silly,  silly  child ! "  he  went  on,  shaking  his 
forefinger  at  her.  "  I  tell  you  women  have  done  their 
greatest  work  in  the  world  when  their  brains  have 
been  covered  with  a  pretty  hat.  .  .  .  There  she  goes," 
he  growled,  as  she  left  the  room.  "  Thinks  I'm  a 
flippant  old  windbag,  I  know.  And  I'm  not.  Why 
don't  you  fall  in  love  with  her,  Maraton?  It  would 
be  the  making  of  you.  Even  a  prophet  needs  re- 
laxation. She  is  yours,  body  and  soul.  One  can 
tell  it  with  every  sentence  she  speaks.  And  she  is 
for  the  cause,"  he  concluded  with  a  graver  note  in 
his  tone.  "  She  has  found  the  fire  somewhere.  There 
were  women  like  her  who  held  Robespierre's  hand. 
.  .  .  Eh?" 

Maraton  glanced  up.  Selingman  was  leaning  for- 
ward and  his  eyes  were  fixed  steadily  upon  his  friend. 

"  I  was  afraid,  just  a  little  afraid,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  of  the  other  woman.  I  am  glad  she  didn't  count 
enough.  Women  are  the  very  devil  sometimes  when 
they  come  between  us  and  the  right  thing !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

Selingraan  came  into  the  restaurant  with  a  huge 
rose  in  his  buttonhole  and  another  bunch  of  flowers 
—  carnations  this  time  —  in  his  hands.  He  made 
his  way  to  the  little  round  table  where  Julia  and 
Aaron  were  seated. 

"  For  you,  Miss  Julia,"  he  declared,  depositing 
them  by  her  side.  "  Pin  them  in  the  front  of  your 
frock.  Drink  wine  to-night.  Be  gay.  Let  us  see 
pink,  also,  in  your  cheeks.  It  is  a  great  evening,  this. 
Maraton  is  here?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  Jula  answered,  smiling. 

Selingman  sat  down  between  them.  He  gave  a 
lengthy  order  to  a  waiter ;  then  he  turned  abruptly  to 
Julia. 

"He  will  keep  to  it,  }'ou  think?  This  time  you 
believe  that  he  has  made  up  his  mind?  " 

"  I  do,"  she  asserted  vigorously. 

"  What  is  he  made  of,  that  man  ?  "  Selingman  con- 
tinued, sipping  the  Vermouth  which  he  had  just  or- 
dered. "  He  makes  love  to  you,  eh  ?  Ach !  never 
mind  your  brother.  For  a  man  like  Maraton,  what 
does  it  matter?  You  are  of  the  right  stuff.  You 
would  be  proud." 

She  looked  steadily  out  of  the  restaurant. 

**  I  have  been  a  worker,"  she  said,  "  in  a  clothing 
factory  since  I  was  old  enough  to  stand  up,  and  what 


3i8  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

little  time  I  have  had  to  spare,  I  have  spent  in 
study,  in  trying  to  fit  myself  for  the  fight  against 
thos-e  things  that  you  and  I  and  all  of  us  know  of. 
There  has  been  no  opportunity,"  she  went  on,  more 
slowly,  "  I  have  not  allowed  myself  — " 

"  Ah,  but  it  comes  —  it  must  come !  "  Selingman  in- 
terrupted. "  You  have  the  instinct  —  I  am  sure  of 
that.  Use  your  power  a  little.  It  will  be  for  his 
good.  Every  man  who  neglects  his  passions,  weak- 
ens. You  have  the  gifts,  Julia.  I  tell  you  that  — 
I,  Selingman,  who  know  much  about  woman  and  more 
about  love  and  life.  You've  felt  it,  too,  yourself 
sometimes  in  the  quiet  hours.  Haven't  you  lain  in 
your  bed  with  your  eyes  wide  open,  and  seen  the  ceil- 
ing roll  away  and  the  skies  lean  down,  and  felt  the 
thoughts  come  stealing  into  your  brain,  till  all  of  a 
sudden  you  found  that  your  pulses  were  beating  fast, 
and  your  heart  was  trembling,  and  there  was  a  sort 
of  faint  music  in  your  blood  and  in  your  ears?  Ah, 
well,  one  knows!  Suffer  yourself  to  think  of  these 
hours  when  he  is  with  you  sometimes.  Don't  make 
an  ice  maiden  of  yourself.  You've  done  good  work. 
I  know  all  about  you.  You  could  do  more  splendid 
work  still  if  you  could  weave  that  little  spell  which 
you  and  I  know  of." 

"  It  is  too  late,"  she  sighed,  "  too  late  now.  He 
has  become  used  to  me.  I  am  a  machine  —  nothing 
more,  to  him.  He  does  not  even  realise  that  I  am  a 
woman." 

"  What  do  you  expect  ?  "  Aaron  asked  harshly. 
"  Why  should  a  man,  with  great  things  in  his  brain, 
waste  a  moment  in  thinking  of  women  ?  " 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  319 

Selingman's  under-lip  shot  out,  a  queer  little  way 
he  had  of  showing  his  contempt. 

"  Little  man,"  he  told  Aaron,  "  you  are  a  fanatic. 
You  do  not  understand.  It  is  a  quarter  past  nine 
and  I  am  hungry.  .  .  .  Ah  !  " 

Maraton  came  in  just  then.  He  had  the  air  of  a 
man  who  has  been  through  a  crisis,  but  his  eyes  were 
bright  as  though  with  triumph.  Selingman  stood  up 
and  filled  a  glass  with  wine. 

"  The  first  rivet  has  been  driven  home,"  he  cried. 
"  I  see  it." 

"  It  has  indeed,"  Maraton  answered.  "  For  good 
or  for  evil,  the  railway  strike  is  decided  upon.  There 
is  civil  war  waging  now,  I  can  tell  you,"  he  added, 
as  he  sat  down.  "  Graveling  was  there  with  a  mes- 
sage. The  whole  of  the  Labour  Party  is  against 
the  strike.  The  leaders  of  the  men  are  hot  for  it, 
and  the  men  themselves.  There  wasn't  a  single  one 
of  them  who  hesitated.  Ernshaw,  who  represents  the 
Union,  told  me  that  there  wasn't  one  of  them  who 
wouldn't  get  the  sack  if  he  dared  to  waver.  They 
know  what  the  Government  did  in  Lancashire  and 
they  know  what  they  tried  to  do  at  Sheffield.  With 
the  railway  companies  they'll  have  even  more  influ- 
ence." 

"  Let  us  dine,"  Selingman  insisted,  welcoming  the 
approach  of  the  waiters.  "  You  see  me,  a  man  of 
forty-five,  robust,  the  picture  of  health.  How  do  I 
do  it  ?  In  this  manner.  When  I  dine,  all  cares  go  to 
the  winds.  When  I  dine,  I  forget  the  hard  places,  I 
let  my  brain  free  of  its  burden.  I  talk  nonsense  I 
love  best  with  a  pretty  woman.  To-night  we  will 


320  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

talk  with  Miss  Julia.  You  see,  I  have  brought  her 
more  flowers.  She  does  not  wear  them,  but  they  lie 
by  her  plate." 

"  I  have  never  worn  an  ornament  in  my  life,"  Julia 
told  him,  "  and  I  don't  think  that  any  one  has  ever 
given  me  flowers." 

Selingman  groaned. 

"  Oh,  what  pitiful  words !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  If 
there  is  one  thing  sadder  in  life  than  the  slavery  of 
the  people,  it  is  to  find  a  woman  who  has  forgotten 
her  sex.  Almost  you  inspire  me,  young  lady,  with 
the  desire  to  take  you  by  the  hand  and  offer  you 
my  escort  into  the  gentler  ways.  If  I  were  sure  of 
success,  not  even  my  fair  friends  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Channel  could  keep  me  from  your  feet.  Mara- 
ton,  look  away  from  the  walls.  There's  nothing  be- 
yond—  just  a  world  full  of  fancies.  There's  some 
Sole  Otero  on  your  plate  which  is  worth  tasting,  and 
there's  champagne  in  your  glass.  What  matter  if 
there  are  troubles  outside?  That's  good  —  there  is 
music." 

He  beckoned  to  the  chef  d'orchestre,  engaged  him 
for  a  few  moments  in  conversation,  poured  him  out 
a  glass  of  wine,  and  slipped  something  into  his  hand. 
Then  he  recommenced  his  dinner  with  a  chuckle  of 
satisfaction. 

"  The  little  man  can  play,"  he  declared.  "  He  has 
it  in  his  fingers.  We  shall  hear  now  the  waltzes 
that  I  love.  Ah,  Miss  Julia,  why  is  this  not  Paris! 
Why  can  I  not  get  up  and  put  my  arm  around  your 
waist  and  whisper  in  your  ear  as  we  float  round  and 
round  in  a  waltz  ?  Stupid  questions !  I  am  too  short 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  321 

to  dance  with  you,  for  one  thing,  and  much  too  fat.. 
But  one  loves  to  imagine.  Listen." 

Maraton  had  already  set  down  his  knife  and  fork* 
The  strains  of  the  waltz  had  come  to  him  with  a  queer 
note  of  familiarity,  a  familiarity  which  at  first  he 
found  elusive.  Then,  as  the  movement  progressed, 
he  remembered.  Once  more  he  was  sitting  in  that 
distant  corner  of  the  winter  garden,  hearing  every 
now  and  then  the  faint  sound  of  the  orchestra  from 
the  ballroom.  It  was  the  same  waltz ;  alas,  the  same 
music  was  warming  his  blood!  And  it  was  too  late 
now.  He  had  passed  into  the  other  world.  In  his 
pocket  lay  the  letter  which  he  had  received  that  even- 
ing from  Mr.  Foley  —  a  few  dignified  lines  of  bitter 
disappointment.  He  was  an  outcast,  one  who  might 
even  soon  be  regarded  as  the  wrecker  of  his  own  coun- 
try. And  still  the  music  grew  and  faded  and  grew 
again. 

It  was  late  before  they  had  finished  dinner,  and 
Maraton  took  Selingman  to  one  side. 

"  Remember,"  he  insisted,  "  it  is  a  bargain.  Be- 
fore I  go  north  I  must  see  Maxendorf." 

Selingman  nodded. 

"  It  is  arranged,"  he  said.  "  We  both  agreed  that 
it  was  better  for  you  not  to  go  to  the  hotel.  Wait." 

He  glanced  at  his  watch  and  nodded. 

"  Stay  with  your  brother,  little  one,"  he  directed,, 
turning  to  Julia.  "  We  shall  be  away  only  a  few 
moments.  Come." 

"Where  are  we  going?"  Maraton  enquired,  as 
they  passed  through  the  restaurant  and  ascended  the 
stairs. 


322  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Selingman  placed  his  finger  by  the  side  of  his 
nose. 

"  A  plan  of  mine,"  he  whispered.  "  Maxendorf 
is  here,  in  a  private  room." 

Selingman  hurried  his  companion  into  a  small  pri- 
vate dining-room.  Maxendorf  was  sitting  there 
alone,  smoking  a  cigarette  over  the  remnants  of  an 
unpretentious  feast.  He  welcomed  them  without  a 
smile;  his  aspect,  indeed,  as  he  waved  his  hand  to- 
wards a  chair,  was  almost  forbidding. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me,  Maraton  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  They  tell  me  —  Selingman  tells  me  —  there  was  a 
word  you  had  to  say  before  you  press  the  levers. 
Say  it,  then,  and  remember  that  hereafter,  the  less 
communication  between  you  and  me  the  better." 

Maraton  ignored  the  chair.  He  stood  a  little  way 
inside  the  room.  Through  the  partially  opened  win- 
dow came  the  ceaseless  roar  of  traffic  from  the  busy 
street  below. 

"  Maxendorf,"  he  began,  "  there  isn't  much  to  be 
said.  You  know  —  Selingman  has  told  you  —  what 
my  decision  is.  It  took  me  some  time  to  make  up 
my  mind  —  only  because  I  doubted  one  thing,  and 
one  thing  alone,  in  the  world.  That  one  thing,  Max- 
endorf, was  your  good  faith." 

Maxendorf  lifted  his  eyes  swiftly. 

"  You  doubted  me,"  he  repeated. 

"  You're  a  people's  man,  I  know,"  Maraton  went 
one,  "  but  here  and  there  one  finds  queer  traits  in 
your  character.  They  say  that  you  are  also  a  pa- 
triot and  a  schemer." 

"  They    say   truly,"   Maxendorf   admitted,    "  yet 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  323 

these  things  are  by  the  way.  They  occupy  a  little 
cell  of  life  —  no  more.  It  is  for  the  people  I  live 
and  breathe." 

"  For  the  people  of  the  world,"  Maraton  persisted 
slowly  — "  for  humanity  ?  Is  there  any  difference  in 
your  mind,  Maxendorf,  between  the  people  of  one 
country  and  the  people  of  another  ?  " 

Maxendorf  never  faltered.  His  long  narrow  face 
was  turned  steadily  towards  Maraton.  His  eyebrows 
were  drawn  together.  He  spoke  slowly  and  with 
great  distinctness. 

"  I  am  for  humanity,"  he  declared.  "  Many  of 
the  people  of  my  country  I  have  already  freed.  It 
is  for  the  sufferers  in  other  lands  that  I  toil  in  these 
days.  If  I  am  a  patriot,  it  is  because  it  is  part  of 
my  political  outfit,  and  a  political  outfit  is  necessary 
to  the  man  who  labours  as  I  have  laboured." 

"  So  be  it,  then,"  Maraton  decided.  "  I  accept 
your  words.  Within  a  month  from  this  time,  the  revo- 
lution will  be  here.  This  land  will  be  laid  waste,  the 
terror  will  be  brewed.  I  fear  nothing,  Maxendorf, 
but  as  one  man  to  another  I  have  come  to  tell  you, 
before  I  start  north,  that  if  in  your  heart  there  is 
a  single  grain  of  deceit,  if  ever  it  shall  be  made  clear 
to  me  that  I  have  been  made  the  cat's-paw  of  what 
you  have  called  patriotism,  if  the  people  of  this  coun- 
try have  left  a  breath  of  life  in  my  body,  I  shall 
dedicate  it  to  a  purpose  at  which  you  can  guess." 

"  It  is  to  threaten  me  that  you  have  come  ?  "  Max- 
endorf asked  quietly. 

"  Don't  put  it  like  that,"  Maraton  replied. 
"  These  are  just  the  words  which  you  yourself  can- 


324  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

not  fail  to  understand.  Neither  you  nor  I  hold  life 
so  dearly  that  the  thought  of  losing  it  need  make  us 
quaver.  I  am  here  only  to  say  this  one  word  —  to  tell 
you  that  the  heavens  have  never  opened  more  surely 
to  let  out  the  lightning,  than  will  your  death  be  a 
charge  upon  me  if  you  should  vary  even  a  hair's- 
breadth  from  our  contract.  If  Maxendorf,  the  peo- 
ple's man,  hides  himself  for  only  a  moment  in  the 
shadow  of  Maxendorf  the  politician,  he  shall  die !  " 

Maxendorf  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Death,"  he  said  scornfully,  "  is  not  the  greatest 
ill  with  which  you  could  threaten  me,  but  let  it  be  so. 
Humanity  shall  be  our  motto  —  no  other." 

"  You  spar  at  one  another,"  Selingman  declared, 
**  like  a  couple  of  sophists.  You  are  both  men  of 
the  truth,  you  are  both  on  your  way  to  the  light.  I 
give  you  my  benediction.  I  watch  over  you  —  I,  Sel- 
ingman. I  am  the  witness  of  the  joining  of  your 
hands.  Unlock  the  gates  without  fear,  Maraton. 
Maxendorf  will  do  his  work." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

About  seven  miles  from  London,  Selingman  gave 
the  signal  for  the  car  to  pull  up.  They  drew  in  by 
the  side  of  the  road  and  they  all  stood  up  in  their 
places.  Before  them,  the  red  glow  which  hung  over 
the  city  was  almost  lurid;  strange  volumes  of  smoke 
were  rising  to  the  sky. 

"  Rioters,"  Selingman  muttered. 

Julia  looked  around  with  a  little  shiver.  There 
were  no  trams  running,  and  a  great  many  of  the  shops 
were  closed.  Some  of  the  people  lounging  about  in 
the  streets  had  the  air  of  holiday  makers.  Little 
bands  of  men  were  marching  arm  in  arm,  shouting. 
Occasionally  one  of  them  picked  up  a  stone  and  threw 
it  through  a  shop  window.  They  had  not  seen  a  po- 
liceman for  miles. 

"  It  is  the  beginning  of  the  end,"  Maraton  said 
slowly.  "  The  only  pity  is  that  one  must  see  it  at 
all." 

Julia  pointed  down  the  road. 

"  What  is  that?  "  she  asked. 

A  long,  grey-looking  line  was  slowly  unwinding 
itself  into  the  level  road.  It  came  into  sight  like  a 
serpent.  It  reached  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see. 
From  somewhere  behind,  they  heard  the  sound  of 
music. 

"  Soldiers,"  Maraton  replied  — "  marching,  too." 


326  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

They  moved  the  car  over  to  the  other  side  of  the 
road.  Presently  a  mounted  officer  galloped  on  ahead 
and  rode  up  to  them. 

"  Your  name  and  address,  please  ?  " 

Maraton  hesitated. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  for  it?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  inform  you  that  your  car  must  be 
surrendered  at  once,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  hope  we 
shall  not  inconvenience  you  very  much  but  those  are 
the  general  orders.  Every  motor  car  is  to  be  com- 
mandeered. Sorry  for  the  lady.  Give  me  your  name 
and  address,  please,  at  once,  the  cost  price  of  your 
car,  and  how  long  it  has  been  in  your  possession?  " 

Selingman  gasped. 

"  Is  the  country  at  war?  "  he  asked.  "  We  have 
come  from  South  Wales  to-day.  We  heard  nothing 
en  route." 

"  There  are  no  newspapers  being  issued,"  the  of- 
ficer told  them.  "  The  telegraph  is  abandoned  to  the 
Government,  and  also  the  telephone.  Even  we  have 
no  idea  what  is  happening.  We  are  trying  to  run 
a  few  trains  through  to  the  north  but  we  have  had  a 
couple  of  hundred  men  killed  already.  They  are  to 
start  again  the  other  side  of  Romford.  In  the 
meantime,  I  am  sorry,  but  I  am  bound  to  take  pos- 
session of  your  car  at  once." 

"  My  name  is  Selingman." 

The  officer  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"  Are  you  Henry  Selingman,"  he  enquired  — "  I 
mean  the  fellow  who  has  been  writing  about  Mara- 
ton? " 

Selingman  nodded. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  327 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  I  can't  say  I  do  feel  so  sorry  to 
inconvenience  you,"  the  officer  continued  grimly. 
*'  Alight  at  once,  if  you  please  —  all  of  you." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  get  into  London?  "  Selingman 
protested. 

"  Walk,"  the  officer  replied  promptly.  "  Be 
thankful  if  you  reach  there  at  all;  and  keep  to  the 
main  streets,  especially  if  the  lady  is  going  with 
you." 

"  Are  there  no  police  left  ?  "  Maraton  demanded. 

"  We  drafted  most  of  them  away  to  the  riot  cen- 
tres. Then  the  train  service  ceased,  too,  and  they 
haven't  been  able  to  come  back.  Now  we  have  had 
an  alarm  from  somewhere  —  I  don't  know  where  — 
and  we've  got  orders  to  push  troops  towards  the  east 
coast.  If  you'll  take  my  advice,  Mr.  Selingman," 
the  officer  concluded,  "  you'll  keep  your  name  to  your- 
self for  a  little  time.  People  who've  been  associated 
in  any  way  with  Maraton  are  not  too  popular  just 
now  around  here." 

Some  more  officers  had  ridden  up.  Two  were  al- 
ready in  the  car.  Soon  it  vanished  in  a  cloud  of  dust 
on  its  way  back.  Julia,  Selingman,  Aaron  and  Mara- 
ton were  left  in  the  road,  along  which  the  soldiers 
were  still  marching.  They  started  out  to  walk. 
Now  and  then  a  motor-car  rattled  by,  full  of  soldiers, 
but  for  the  most  part  the  streets  were  almost  empty. 
No  one  spoke  to  them  or  attempted  to  molest  them 
in  any  way.  As  they  drew  nearer  London,  however, 
the  streets  became  more  and  more  crowded.  Men  in 
the  middle  of  the  road  were  addressing  little  knots 
of  listeners.  There  was  a  complete  row  of  shops,  the 


328  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

plate-glass  windows  of  which  had  been  knocked  in 
and  the  contents  raided.  They  pushed  steadily  on- 
wards. Here  and  there,  little  groups  of  loiterers 
assumed  a  threatening  aspect.  They  came  across  the 
dead  body  of  a  man  lying  upon  the  pavement.  No 
one  seemed  to  mind.  Very  few  of  the  passers-by 
even  glanced  at  him.  Selingman  shivered. 

"  Ghastly !  "  he  muttered.  "  This  reminds  me  of 
the  first  days  of  the  French  troubles.  How  quiet 
the  people  keep!  They  are  tired  of  robbing  for 
money.  It  is  food  they  want.  A  sandwich  just  now 
would  be  a  dangerous  possession." 

They  reached  Algate.  There  were  still  no  trams 
running,  and  nearly  all  the  houses  were  tightly  shut- 
tered. 

"  Six  weeks ! "  Maraton  murmured  to  himself  as 
he  looked  around.  "  Could  any  one  believe  that  this 
might  happen  in  six  weeks ! " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  Selingman  demanded.  "  You  stop 
the  arteries  of  life  when  you  stop  all  communication 
from  centre  to  centre.  It's  the  most  merciful  way, 
after  all.  Everything  will  be  over  the  sooner." 

They  passed  down  Threadneedle  Street,  a  wilder- 
ness with  boards  nailed  up  in  front  of  the  great 
bank  windows.  A  little  further  on  there  was  the 
usual  crowd  of  people,  but  they  were  all  hanging 
about,  uncertain  what  to  do.  There  was  no  Stock 
Exchange  business  being  transacted,  simply  because 
there  were  no  buyers.  At  the  Mansion  House  they 
found  a  few  'buses  running,  and  managed  to  board  one 
which  was  going  westwards.  It  set  them  down  in 
New  Oxford  Street,  not  far  from  Russell  Square. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  329 

Here  there  were  denser  crowds  than  ever.  The  en- 
tance  to  the  square  itself  was  almost  blocked. 

"  What's  going  on  here? "  Maraton  asked  a 
loiterer. 

They  heard  a  loud,  hoarse  yell,  repeated  several 
times.  The  man  pointed  with  his  finger. 

"  They  are  round  Maraton's  house,"  he  answered. 
**  They  have  broken  in  all  his  windows.  He's  not 
there  or  they'd  have  had  him  out  and  flayed  him 
alive." 

A  brief  silence  ensued.  There  seemed  something 
ominous  in  this  message,  delivered  apparently  from 
one  typical  of  his  class,  a  worker  out  of  work,  a  pipe 
in  his  mouth,  a  generally  aimless  air  about  his  move- 
ments. 

"  But  forgive  me,"  Selingman  remarked,  "  I  am 
a  stranger  in  this  country.  I  have  been  told  that 
Maraton  is  a  friend  of  the  people." 

The  man  nodded  gloomily. 

"  There's  plenty  that  calls  him  so  in  other  parts 
of  the  country,"  he  assented.  "  I  belong  to  a  Work- 
ing Man's  Club  and  what  we  can't  see  is  what's  the 
bally  use  of  a  job  like  this?  He's  bitten  off  more 
than  he  can  chew  —  that's  what  Maraton's  done. 
He's  stopped  the  railways  and  the  coal,  and  even  you 
can  tell  what  that  means,  I  suppose,  sir?  Pretty 
well  every  factory  in  the  country  is  shutting  down 
or  has  shut  down.  Well,  supposing  the  Government 
make  terms,  which  they  say  they  can't.  The  miners 
and  railway  men  may  get  a  bit  more.  What  about 
all  the  rest  of  us?  We're  more  likely  to  get  a  bit 
less.  Then  what  if  the  Germans  get  over  here? 


330  A  PEOPLE'S   MAN 

There's  all  sorts  of  rumours  about  this  morning. 
They  say  that  three-quarters  of  the  fleet  is  hung  up 
for  want  of  coal.  .  .  .  My!  Look  there,  they've 
fired  his  house!  I  wouldn't  be  in  his  shoes  for  some- 
thing! They  say  he's  hiding  up  in  Northumber- 
land." 

The  man  passed  on.  Maraton  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

"  Come,"  he  said  quietly,  "  there  is  nothing  here 
to  be  discouraged  at.  We  knew  very  well  that  for 
the  first  few  months  —  years,  perhaps  —  this  thing 
had  to  be  faced.  We  must  get  rooms  somewhere. 
I  have  to  meet  the  railway  men  to-night.  Young 
Ernshaw  rode  up  from  Derby  on  a  motor-cycle  to 
make  the  appointment.  As  for  you,  Selingman," 
Maraton  went  on,  as  they  turned  back  towards  New 
Oxford  Street,  "  why  do  you  stay  here  ?  Your  com- 
ing has  been  splendid.  It  has  been  a  joy  to  have 
you  near.  But  between  ourselves,"  he  added,  lower- 
ing his  voice,  "  you  know  what  mobs  are.  Take  my 
advice  and  get  back  home  for  a  time.  We  shall  meet 
again." 

Selingman  shook  his  head. 

"  I  helped  to  light  the  torch,"  he  declared.  "  I'll 
see  it  burn  for  a  while.  I  was  in  Paris  through  the 
last  riots  —  a  dirty  sight  it  was !  You'll  pull 
through  this.  Maybe  we're  better  apart  for  a  time. 
But  we'll  see  one  another  housed  first,"  he  added.  "  I 
want  to  know  where  you  all  are." 

There  was  no  difficulty  about  shelter  of  a  sort. 
The  private  hotels,  which  were  plentiful  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, were  half  empty,  and  supplied  rooms 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  331 

readily  enough,  although  they  were  curiously  apa- 
thetic about  the  matter.  At  each  one  of  them  the 
charges  for  food  were  enormous.  Maraton  divided 
a  bundle  of  notes  into  half  and  made  Aaron  take 
one  portion. 

"  Look  after  Julia,"  he  directed,  "  and  I  think 
you'd  better  keep  away  from  me.  A  good  many  of 
them  knew  that  you  were  my  secretary.  Look  after 
your  sister.  Keep  quiet  for  a  time.  Wait." 

He  tore  a  sheet  of  paper  from  his  pocket-book, 
wrote  a  few  lines  upon  it  and  twisted  it  up. 

"  You  will  find  an  address  in  New  York  there," 
he  said.  "  If  anything  happens  to  me,  go  over  and 
present  it  in  person." 

Aaron  took  it  almost  mechanically.  His  eyes 
scarcely  for  a  second  had  left  his  master's  face. 

"  Let  me  stay  here,"  he  begged,  "  if  it's  only  an 
attic.  There  may  be  work  to  be  done.  Let  me  stay, 
sir.  My  little  bit  of  life  is  of  no  more  account  to 
me  than  a  snap  of  the  fingers.  Don't  send  me  away. 
Julia's  a  woman  —  they  won't  hurt  her.  She  can  go 
back  to  her  old  rooms.  The  streets  are  quite  orderly. 
Let  me  stay,  sir ! " 

"  No  one  seemed  to  notice  us  come  in,"  Julia 
pleaded.  "  Let  me  stay,  too.  You  heard  what  the 
porter  said  —  we  could  choose  what  rooms  we  liked. 
It  is  safer  in  this  part  of  London  than  in  the  East 
End,  and  you  know,"  she  added,  looking  at  him 
steadily,  "  that  if  there  is  trouble  to  come,  I  have  no 
fear." 

Maraton  hesitated.  Perhaps  they  were  as  well 
where  they  were,  under  shelter.  He  nodded. 


332  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  Very  well,"  he  agreed.  "  There  seems  to  be  no 
one  to  show  us  about.  We  will  go  and  select  rooms." 

In  the  hall  they  passed  a  man  in  the  livery  of  the 
hotel.  Maraton  enquired  the  way  to  the  telephone, 
but  he  only  shook  his  head. 

"  Telephone  isn't  working,  sir,"  he  announced, 
"  not  to  private  subscribers,  at  any  rate.  They 
haven't  answered  a  call  for  two  days." 

"Are  any  meals  being  served  in  the  restaurant?  " 
Maraton  asked. 

The  man  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  regular  meals,  sir,"  he  replied.  "  What 
food  we've  got  is  all  locked  up.  You  can  get  some- 
thing between  eight  and  nine.  We  close  the  hotel 
doors  then." 

"  They  tell  me  I  can  select  any  room  I  like  up- 
stairs that  isn't  occupied,"  Maraton  remarked. 

The  porter  nodded. 

"  Nearly  all  the  servants  have  gone,"  he  explained, 
"  so  they  can't  try  to  run  the  hotel.  Gone  out  to 
find  food  somewhere.  They  couldn't  feed  them 
here." 

"  Is  there  wine  in  the  place  ?  "  Selingman  asked. 

"  Plenty,"  the  man  answered. 

"  If  needs  be,  then,  we  will  carouse,"  Selingman 
declared.  "  First,  a  wash.  Then  I  will  forage. 
Leave  it  to  me  to  forage,  you  others.  I  know  the 
tricks.  I  shall  not  go  away.  I  shall  stay  here  with 
you." 

They  selected  rooms  —  Maraton  and  Selingman 
adjoining  ones  on  the  first  floor;  the  others  higher  up. 
Then  Selingman  departed  on  his  expedition,  and 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  333 

Maraton  sat  down  before  the  window  in  the  sitting- 
room.  He  drew  aside  the  curtain  and  stared.  They 
had  been  in  the  hotel  rather  less  than  half  an  hour, 
but  the  autumn  twilight  had  deepened  rapidly. 
Darkness  had  fallen  upon  the  city  —  a  strange,  un- 
redeemed darkness.  The  street  lamps  were  unlit. 
It  was  as  though  a  black  hand  had  been  laid  upon 
the  place.  Only  here  and  there  the  sky  was  reddened 
as  though  with  conflagration.  Maraton's  head  sunk 
upon  his  arms.  These,  indeed,  were  the  days  when 
he  would  need  all  his  courage.  He  threw  open  the 
window.  There  was  a  curious  silence  without.  The 
roar  of  traffic  had  ceased  entirely.  The  only  sound 
was  the  footfall  of  the  people  upon  the  pavement. 
He  looked  down  into  the  street,  crowded  with  little 
knots  of  men,  one  or  two  of  them  carrying  torches. 
He  watched  them  stream  by.  It  was  the  breaking 
up  of  the  crowd  which  had  gathered  together  to  sack 
and  burn  his  house. 

The  door  was  softly  opened  and  closed  again. 
He  turned  half  around.  Through  the  shadows  he 
saw  Julia's  pale  face  as  she  came  swiftly  towards 
him.  With  a  sudden  gesture  she  fell  on  her  knees 
by  his  side.  Her  fingers  clasped  him,  she  clung  to 
his  arm. 

"  Ah,  I  knew  that  I  should  find  you  like  this ! " 
she  cried.  "  Don't  look  down  into  the  street,  don't 
look  at  those  unlit  places!  Look  up  to  the  skies. 
See,  there  is  a  star  there  already.  Nothing  up  there 
—  nothing  which  really  matters  —  is  altered.  This 
is  only  the  destruction  that  must  come  before  the 


334  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

dawn.  It  was  you  yourself  who  prophesied  it,  you 
yourself  who  saw  it  so  clearly.  Oh,  don't  be  sad 
because  you  have  pulled  down  the  pillars!  It  isn't 
so  very  long  before  the  morning." 

He  passed  his  arm  around  her  and  gripped  her 
fingers  tightly.  So  they  were  sitting  when,  by  and 
by,  Selingman  burst  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

Selingman  was  once  more  entirely  his  old  self.  He 
staggered  into  the  room  with  a  tin  of  biscuits  under 
one  arm,  and  three  bottles  of  hock  under  the  other, 
all  of  which  he  deposited  noisily  upon  the  round  table 
in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  I  am  the  prince  of  caterers,"  he  declared.  "  I 
surpass  myself.  Come  out  of  the  shadows,  you 
dreamer.  There  is  work  to  be  done,  food  to  be  eaten, 
wine  to  be  drunk." 

From  his  left-hand  pocket  he  produced  three  can- 
dles, which  he  placed  at  intervals  along  the  mantel- 
piece and  lit.  Then  for  the  first  time  he  saw  Julia. 

"  Ah,"  he  cried,  "  our  inspiration !  Congratulate 
yourself,  dear  Miss  Julia.  After  all,  you  are  going 
to  dine  or  sup,  or  whatever  meal  you  may  choose  to 
call  it.  Behold!" 

From  his  other  pocket  he  produced  two  great  jars 
of  potted  meat,  a  jar  of  jam,  a  handful  of  miscellane- 
ous knives  and  forks,  and  a  corkscrew. 

"  I  have  found  an  intelligent  person  here,"  he  con- 
fided to  them.  "  He  has  shown  me  the  way  to  the 
wine  cellar.  Only  the  landlord  and  he  are  permitted 
to  fetch  wine.  They  fear  a  raid.  Niersteiner,  of  a 
reasonable  vintage." 

"  I  will  fetch  Aaron,"  Julia  said  as  she  left  the 
room. 


336  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

"  The  girl  worships  you,  and  you're  a  beast  to  her," 
Selingman  exclaimed,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  door 
through  which  she  had  vanished.  "  A  man,  indeed ! 
A  creature  of  wood  and  sawdust !  Listen !  " 

His  hand  flashed  out,  his  hand  which  grasped  still 
the  corkscrew. 

"  Listen,  you  man  from  the  clouds,"  he  continued. 
"  I  shall  rob  you  of  her.  I  adore  her.  To-day  she 
may  think  me  merely  fat  and  eccentric.  Don't  rely 
upon  that.  I  have  the  gift  when  I  choose.  I  can 
tell  fairy  tales,  I  can  creep  a  little  way  into  her  mind 
and  fill  her  brain  with  delicate  fancies,  build  images 
there  and  destroy  them,  play  softly  upon  the  keynote 
of  her  emotions,  until  one  day  she  will  wake  up  and 
what  will  have  happened?  She  will  be  mine! " 

He  banged  the  table  with  the  bottle  of  wine  he 
was  holding.  Then,  with  great  care  and  accuracy,  he 
drew  the  cork. 

"  Your  health !  "  he  cried,  raising  his  glass.  "  Ah, 
no !  I  have  not  sipped  the  wine.  I  change  the  toast. 
To  Julia!" 

Maraton  rose  to  his  feet,  and  turned  his  back  upon 
the  gloomy  darkness  which  brooded  over  the  city. 
He  took  the  glass  of  wine  which  Selingman  was  hold- 
ing out  and  leaned  towards  him  earnestly. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  strange  to  me 
that  we  speak  of  these  things  at  such  an  hour.  Yet 
let  me  tell  you  something.  I  don't  know  why  I  want 
to  tell  you,  but  I  do.  I  am  not,  perhaps,  quite  what 
you  think  me.  Only,  the  night  you  and  I  went  north 
together,  the  gates  of  that  world  which  you  speak  of 
so  easily  were  closed  behind  me." 


A  PEOPLE'S   MAN  337 

*'  It  was  the  other  woman,"  Selingman  exclaimed. 

"  It  was  the  other  woman,"  Maraton  echoed. 

Selingman  set  down  the  bottle  upon  the  table.  Two 
great  tears  rolled  down  from  his  blue  eyes.  He  held 
out  both  his  hands  and  gripped  Maraton's. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  "  now  indeed  I  love  you ! 
We  are  twin  souls.  You,  too,  are  human  as  you  are 
wonderful.  You  see  what  an  old  woman  I  am.  This 
sentiment  —  oh,  it  will  be  the  end  of  me !  But  tell 
me  —  I  must  know.  It  was  because  you  went  north 
that  it  was  ended  ?  " 

Maraton  nodded  slowly. 

"  I  chose  the  opposite  camp,"  he  answered. 
"What  could  I  do?" 

*'  Nature,"  Selingman  declared,  brandishing  a 
great  silk  handkerchief,  "  is  the  queerest  mistress  who 
ever  played  pranks  with  us.  Here,  in  the  same  camp, 
dwells  a  divinity,  and  you  —  you  must  peer  down 
into  the  lower  world.  .  .  .  Never  mind,  potted  meat 
and  hock  are  good.  Julia,"  he  added,  turning  his 
head  at  the  sound  of  the  opening  door,  "  to  genius  in 
adversity  all  gentle  familiarities  are  permitted.  I 
grant  myself  the  privilege  of  your  Christian  name. 
Come  and  grace  our  feast.  I  have  found  food  and 
wine.  I  am  your  self-appointed  caterer.  There  is 
no  butter,  but  that  is  simply  one  of  those  pleasant 
tests  for  us,  a  test  of  will  and  fortitude.  All  my 
life  until  to-night  I  have  loved  butter.  From  hence- 
forth —  until  we  can  get  it  again  —  I  detest  it.  Let 
us  eat,  drink  and  be  merry.  Where  is  Aaron?  " 

"  He  went  out  into  the  streets,"  Julia  replied. 
*'  He  will  be  back  presently." 


338  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Aaron  came  in  a  few  minutes  later,  struggling  with 
the  weight  of  the  parcels  he  was  carrying.  He  laid 
them  down  upon  the  sideboard,  and  turned  towards 
Maraton  with  an  air  of  triumph. 

"  I've  been  there,  sir,"  he  announced.  "  I've  got 
the  letters,  your  private  dispatch  box,  and  a  lot  of 
papers  we  needed.  It's  only  the  outside  walls  of  the 
house  that  are  charred.  The  fire  was  put  out  almost 
at  once.  And  I've  seen  Ernshaw." 

Maraton's  eyes  were  lit  with  pleasure. 

"  You're  a  fine  fellow,  Aaron,"  he  commended. 

"  I've  got  my  bicycle,  too,"  Aaron  continued.  "  I 
can  get  half  over  London,  if  necessary,  while  you 
stay  here." 

"  Tell  me  about  Ernshaw? "  Maraton  begged 
quickly. 

"  He's  loyal  —  they  all  are,"  Aaron  cried.  "  Oh, 
you  should  hear  him  talk  about  Peter  Dale  and  Gravel- 
ing, and  that  lot !  They're  spread  up  north  now,  all 
of  them,  trying  to  kill  the  strike.  And  the  men  won't 
move  anywhere.  His  own  miners  wouldn't  listen  to 
Dale.  Mr.  Foley  sent  him  up  to  Newcastle  in  his 
motor-car.  They  played  a  garden  hose  on  him  and 
burned  an  effigy  of  himself,  dressed  in  old  woman's 
clothes.  Mr.  Foley's  had  the  railway  men  to  Down- 
ing Street  twice,  but  they've  never  wavered.  Ern- 
shaw is  splendid.  There  are  seven  of  them,  and 
Ernshaw's  own  words  were  that  they've  made  up  their 
minds  that  grass  could  grow  in  the  tracks  and  hell 
fires  scorch  up  the  land  before  they'd  go  back  to 
slavery.  They're  for  you,  sir,  body  and  soul.  They 
won't  give  in." 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  339 

"  Thank  God !  "  Maraton  muttered.  "  What  about 
the  mob?" 

"  Loafers  and  wastrels,"  Aaron  exclaimed  indig- 
nantly, "  dirty  parasites  of  humanity,  thieves ;  not 
an  honest  worker  amongst  them!  They're  the  sort 
who  shouted  themselves  hoarse  on  Mafeking  night 
and  hid  in  their  holes  when  the  war  drums  were  call- 
ing. The  authorities  got  a  hundred  police  from 
somewhere,  and  they  crumbled  away  like  rats  running 
for  their  holes.  Ernshaw  asks  you  not  to  go  back 
to  Russell  Square  because  of  the  difficulty  of  getting 
at  you,  but  this  was  his  message  to  you,  sir,  when  I 
told  him  of  your  arrival.  He  begged  me  to  tell  you 
that  they  were  the  scum  of  the  earth ;  that  from  New- 
castle to  the  Thames  the  men  who  stand  idle  to-day 
wait  in  faith  and  trust  for  your  word  and  yours  only. 
He  will  be  here  before  long." 

Selingman  nodded  ponderously.  His  mouth  was 
very  full,  but  he  did  not  delay  his  speech. 

"  You  have  brought  a  splendid  message,  young 
man,"  he  pronounced.  "  Sit  down  and  eat  with  us. 
Exercise  your  imagination  but  a  little  and  you  will 
indeed  believe  that  you  have  been  bidden  to  a  feast  of 
Lucullus.  Has  any  one,  I  wonder,  ever  appreciated 
the  marvellous  and  yet  subtle  sympathy  which  can 
exist  between  potted  meat  and  biscuits  —  especially 
when  washed  down  with  hock?  Join  us,  my  young 
friend  Aaron.  Abandon  yourself  with  us  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  table.  We  will  discuss  any  subject 
upon  the  earth  —  except  butter !  Miss  Julia,  do  you 
know  where  I  shall  go  when  I  leave  here?  No?  I 
go  to  seek  chocolates  and  flowers  for  you." 


340  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

She  laughed  gaily. 

"  Chocolates  and  flowers,"  she  repeated,  *'  at  ten 
o'clock  at  night !  And  for  me,  too !  " 

"  And  why  not  for  you  ?  "  Selingman  demanded, 
almost  indignantly.  "  You  are  like  all  enthusiasts 
of  your  sex.  You  are  too  intense,  you  concentrate 
too  much.  You  have  lived  in  a  cold  and  austere 
atmosphere.  You  have  waited  a  long  time  for  the 
hand  which  is  to  lead  you  into  the  sunshine." 

She  laughed  at  him  once  more,  yet  perhaps  this 
time  a  little  wistfully. 

"  Very  well,"  she  promised,  "  I  will  reform.  I  will 
eat  all  the  chocolates  you  can  bring  me,  and  I  will 
sleep  with  your  flowers  at  my  bedside.  There !  Am 
I  improving?  " 

Selingman  rose  to  his  feet.  He  drained  his  glass 
of  wine  and  lit  one  of  his  long  black  cigars  by  the 
flame  of  the  candle. 

"  Dear  Julia,"  he  said,  "  you  have  spoken.  I  start 
on  the  quest  of  my  life." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

Selingman  had  scarcely  left  the  place  when  Ern- 
shaw arrived,  piloted  into  the  room  by  Aaron,  who 
had  been  waiting  for  him  below.  Maraton  and  he 
gripped  hands  heartily.  During  the  first  few  days 
of  the  campaign  they  had  been  constant  companions. 

*'  At  least,"  he  declared,  as  he  looked  into  Mara- 
ton's  face,  "  whatever  the  world  may  think  of  the 
justice  of  their  cause,  no  one  will  ever  any  longer 
deny  the  might  of  the  people." 

"  None  but  fools  ever  did  deny  it,"  Maraton 
answered. 

"  How  are  they  in  the  north  ?  "  Ernshaw  asked. 

"  United  and  confident,"  Maraton  assured  him. 
"  Up  there  I  don't  think  they  realise  the  position  so 
much  as  here.  In  Nottingham  and  Leicester,  people 
are  leading  their  usual  daily  lives.  It  was  only  as  we 
neared  London  that  one  began  to  understand." 

"  London  is  paralysed  with  fear,"  Ernshaw  as- 
serted, "  perhaps  with  reason.  The  Government  are 
working  the  telephones  and  telegraph  to  a  very  small 
extent.  The  army  engineers  are  doing  the  best  they, 
can  with  the  East  Coast  railways." 

"What  about  Dale  and  his  friends?" 

Ernshaw's  dark,  sallow  face  was  lit  with  triumph. 

"  They  are  flustered  to  death  like  a  lot  of  rabbits 
in  the  middle  of  a  cornfield,  with  the  reapers  at 


342  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

work !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Heckled  and  terrified  to 
death !  Cecil  was  at  them  the  other  night.  '  Are 
you  not,'  he  cried, '  the  representatives  of  the  people  ?  * 
Wilmott  was  in  the  House  —  one  of  us  —  treasurer 
for  the  Amalgamated  Society,  and  while  Dale  was 
hesitating,  he  sprang  up.  '  Before  God,  no ! '  he 
answered.  *  There  isn't  a  Labour  Member  in  this 
House  who  stands  for  more  than  the  constituency  he 
represents,  or  is  here  for  more  than  the  salary  he 
draws.  The  cause  of  the  people  is  in  safer  hands.' 
Then  they  called  for  you.  There  have  been  questions 
about  your  whereabouts  every  day.  They  wanted  to 
impeach  you  for  high  treason.  Through  all  the 
storm,  Foley  is  the  only  man  who  has  kept  quiet.  He 
sent  for  me.  I  referred  him  to  you." 

"  The  time  for  conferences  is  past,"  Maraton  said 
firmly. 

"  We  know  it,"  Ernshaw  replied.  "  What's  the 
good  of  them  ?  A  sop  for  the  men,  a  pat  on  the  back 
for  their  leaders,  a  buttering  Press,  and  a  public  who 
cares  only  how  much  or  how  little  they  are  inconve- 
nienced. We  have  had  enough  of  that.  My  men 
must  wake  into  a  new  life,  or  sleep  for  ever." 

**  What  is  the  foreign  news  ?  "  Maraton  asked. 

"  All  uncertain.  The  air  is  full  of  rumours. 
Several  Atlantic  liners  are  late,  and  reports  have  come 
by  wireless  of  a  number  of  strange  cruisers  off 
Queenstown.  Personally,  I  don't  think  that  anything 
definite  has  been  done.  The  moment  to  strike  isn't 
yet.  The  Admiralty  have  been  working  like  slaves 
to  get  coal  to  their  fleet." 

"  You  came  alone  ?  "  Maraton  enquired. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  343 

Ernshaw  nodded. 

"  I  came  alone  because  the  seven  of  us  are  as  men 
with  one  heart.  We  are  with  you  into  hell !  " 

"  And  the  men,"  Maraton  continued, —  "  I  wonder 
how  many  of  them  realise  what  they  may  have  to  go 
through." 

"  You  stirred  something  up  in  them,"  Ernshaw  said 
slowly,  "  something  they  have  never  felt  before.  You 
made  them  feel  that  they  have  the  right  of  nature  to 
live  a  dignified  life, -and  to  enjoy  a  certain  share  of 
the  profits  of  their  labour,  not  as  a  grudgingly  given 
wage  but  as  a  law-established  right.  There's  a  feel- 
ing born  in  them  that's  new  —  it's  done  them  good 
already.  I  never  heard  so  little  grumbling  at  the 
pay.  I  think  it's  in  their  heart  that  they're  fighting 
for  a  principle  this  time,  and  not  for  an  extra  coin 
dragged  from  the  unwilling  pockets  of  men  who  have 
no  human  right  to  be  the  janitors  of  what  their 
labour  produces.  They've  got  the  proper  feeling  at 
last,  sir.  You've  touched  something  which  is  as  near 
the  religious  sense  as  anything  a  man  can  feel  who 
has  no  call  that  way.  It's  something  that  will  last, 
too !  Their  womenkind  have  laid  hold  of  it.  When 
they  start  life  again,  they  mean  to  start  on  a  different 
plane." 

"How  are  the  accounts  lasting  out?"  Maraton 
asked. 

Ernshaw  produced  some  books  from  his  pocket  and 
they  sat  down  at  the  table. 

"  We're  not  so  badly  off  for  money,"  he  declared. 
"  It's  the  purchasing  power  of  it  that's  making  things 
difficult.  I  have  spread  the  people  out  as  much  as  I 


344  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

can.  It's  the  best  chance,  but  next  week  will  be  a 
black  one." 

They  pored  over  the  figures  for  a  time.  Outside, 
the  streets  were  almost  as  silent  as  death.  Suddenly 
the  door  was  thrown  open,  and  they  both  looked  up 
hastily.  Selingman  stood  there,  but  Selingman  trans- 
formed. All  the  colour  seemed  to  have  left  his 
cheeks ;  his  eyes  were  burning  with  a  steely  fire.  He 
closed  the  door  behind  him  and  he  shivered  where  he 
stood.  Maraton  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  What,  in  God's  name,  has  happened,  man  ?  "  he 
cried.  "Quick!" 

Selingman  came  a  little  further  into  the  room.  He 
raised  his  hands  above  his  head;  his  voice  was  thick 
with  horror. 

"  I  have  betrayed  you !  "  he  moaned.  "  I  have  be- 
trayed the  people ! " 

He  stood  there,  still  trembling.  Maraton  poured 
him  out  wine,  but  he  swept  it  away. 

"  No  more  of  those  things  for  me ! "  he  continued. 
"  Listen  to  my  tale.  If  there  is  a  God,  may  he  hear 
me !  By  every  line  I  have  written,  by  every  world  of 
fancy  into  which  I  have  been  led,  by  every  particle 
of  what  nations  have  called  my  genius,  I  swear  that  I 
speak  the  truth !  " 

"  I  believe  you,"  Maraton  said.  "  Go  on.  Tell  me 
quickly." 

"  I  trusted  Maxendorf,"  Selingman  proceeded,  his 
voice  shaking,  "  trusted  and  loved  him  as  a  brother. 
I  have  been  his  tool  and  his  dupe ! " 

Maraton  felt  himself  suddenly  at  the  edge  of  the 
world.  He  leaned  over  and  looked  into  the  abyss 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  345 

called  hell.  For  a  moment  he  shivered;  then  he  set 
his  teeth. 

"  Go  on,"  he  repeated. 

"  Maxendorf  and  I  have  spoken  many  times  of 
the  future  of  this  country.  The  dream  which  he 
outlined  for  you,  he  has  spoken  of  to  me  with  glit- 
tering eyes,  with  heaving  chest,  with  trembling  voice. 
It  was  his  scheme  that  I  should  take  you  to  him. 
You,  too,  believed  as  I  did.  To-night  I  visited  him. 
I  stepped  in  upon  the  one  weak  moment  of  his  life. 
He  needed  a  confidant.  He  was  bursting  with  joy 
and  triumph.  He  showed  me  his  heart ;  he  showed  me 
the  great  and  terrible  hatred  which  burns  there  for 
England  and  everything  English.  The  people's  man, 
he  calls  himself!  He  is  for  the  people  of  his  own 
country  and  his  own  country  only !  You  and  I  have 
been  the  tools  of  his  crafty  schemes.  This  country, 
if  he  possesses  it,  he  will  occupy  as  a  conqueror.  He 
will  set  his  heel  upon  it.  He  will  demand  the  great- 
est indemnity  of  all  times.  And  every  penny  of  it 
will  flow  into  his  beloved  land.  We  thought  that  the 
dawn  had  come,  we  poor,  miserable  and  deluded  vic- 
tims of  his  craft.  We  are  dooming  the  people  of 
this  country  to  generations  of  slavery !  " 

Maraton  for  a  moment  sat  quite  still.  When  he 
spoke,  his  tone  was  singularly  matter-of-fact. 

"  Where  is  Maxendorf?  "  he  asked. 

"  Still  at  the  hotel.  The  Embassy  was  not  ready,, 
and  he  has  made  excuses.  He  is  more  his  own  mas- 
ter there." 

Maraton  turned  to  Ernshaw. 

"  Ernshaw,"  he  begged,  "  wait  here  for  me.    Wait." 


346  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

He  took  up  his  hat  and  left  the  room.  Sellngman 
stood  almost  as  though  he  were  praying. 

"  Now,"  he  muttered,  "  is  the  time  for  the  strong 
man ! " 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

Into  the  salon  of  Maxendorfs  suite  at  the  Ritz 
Hotel,  freed  for  a  moment  from  its  constant  stream 
of  callers,  came  suddenly,  without  announcement  — • 
from  a  place  of  hiding,  indeed  —  Maraton.  He 
stepped  into  the  room  swiftly  and  closed  the  door. 
Maxendorf  was  standing  with  his  back  to  his  visitor, 
bending  over  a  map. 

"Who's  that?"  he  asked,  without  looking  up. 
"  You,  Franz?  You,  Beldeman?  " 

There  was  no  reply.  Maxendorf  straightened  his 
gaunt  figure  and  turned  around.  He  stood  there  mo- 
tionless, the  palm  of  one  hand  covering  the  map  at 
which  he  had  been  gazing,  the  lamplight  shining  on 
his  gaunt,  strangely  freckled  face. 

"You!"  he  muttered. 

Maraton  remained  still  speechless.  Maxendorf 
stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  telephone,  but  before 
he  could  grasp  it,  his  hand  was  struck  into  the  air. 
He  wasted  no  time  asking  useless  questions.  His 
visitor's  face  was  enough. 

"  What  have  you  to  gain  by  this  ?  "  he  demanded. 
"  Even  if  you  could  take  my  life,  it  will  alter  noth- 
ing." 

Maraton  caught  him  fiercely  by  the  throat. 
Maxendorf,  notwithstanding  his  superior  height,  was 
powerless.  He  was  forced  slowly  backwards  across 


348  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

the  couch,  on  to  the  floor.  Maraton  knelt  by  his  side. 
His  grasp  was  never  for  a  second  relaxed. 

"  I  leave  you  to-night,"  Maraton  whispered,  "  with 
a  gasp  or  two  of  life  in  you,  but  remember  this.  If 
I  fail  to  undo  your  work,  as  sure  as  I  live,  I  will  keep 
my  word.  My  hand  shall  find  your  throat  again  — 
your  throat,  do  you  hear?  —  and  shall  hold  you  there, 
tighter  and  tighter,  until  the  life  slips  out  of  your 
body,  just  as  it  is  almost  slipping  now ! " 

Maxendorf  was  unconscious.  Maraton  suddenly 
threw  him  away.  Then  he  left  the  room,  rang  for  the 
lift  and  made  his  way  once  more  out  into  the  street. 
Piccadilly  was  a  shadowy  wilderness.  St.  James's 
Street  was  thronged  with  soldiers  marching  into  the 
Park.  Maraton  pursued  his  way  steadily  into  Pall 
Mall  and  Downing  Street.  Even  here  there  were  very 
few  people,  and  the  front  of  Mr.  Foley's  house  was 
almost  deserted,  save  for  one  or  two  curious  loiterers 
and  a  couple  of  policemen.  Maraton  rang  the  bell 
and  found  no  trouble  in  obtaining  admittance.  The 
butler,  however,  shook  his  head  when  asked  if  Mr. 
Foley  was  at  home. 

"  Mr.  Foley  is  at  the  War  Office,  sir,"  he  announced. 
"  We  cannot  tell  what  time  to  expect  him." 

"  I  shall  wait,"  Maraton  replied.  "  My  business 
is  of  urgent  importance." 

The  butler  made  no  difficulty.  He  recognised 
Maraton  as  a  guest  of  the  house  and  he  showed  him 
into  the  smaller  library,  which  was  generally  used  as 
a  waiting-room  for  more  important  visitors.  It  was 
the  room  in  which  Maraton  had  had  his  first  conver- 
sation with  Mr.  Foley.  He  looked  around  him  with 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  349 

faint,  half  painful  curiosity.  It  was  like  a  place 
which  he  had  known  well  in  some  other  life.  It  seemed 
impossible  to  believe  that  he  was  the  same  man,  or 
that  this  was  the  same  room.  Yet  it  was  barely  four 
months  ago!  Too  restless  to  sit  still,  he  walked  up 
and  down  the  apartment  with  quick,  unsteady  foot- 
steps. Then  suddenly  the  door  opened.  Elisabeth 
appeared.  She  recognised  Maraton  and  started. 
She  looked  at  him  with  a  fixed,  incredulous  stare. 

"You?"  she  exclaimed.  "You  here?  What  do 
you  want?  " 

"  Your  uncle,"  he  answered.  "  How  long  will  he 
be?" 

She  closed  the  door  behind  her  with  trembling  fin- 
gers. Then  she  came  further  into  the  room  and  con- 
fronted him. 

"  Why  are  you  here  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  To  gloat 
over  your  work?  " 

"  To  undo  it,  if  I  can,"  he  replied  quickly, —  "  a 
part  of  it,  at  any  rate.  I  fell  into  a  trap  —  Seling- 
man  and  I.  I've  a  way  out,  if  there's  time.  I  want 
your  uncle." 

"  You  mean  it  ?  "  she  begged  feverishly,  her  face 
lightening.  "  Oh,  don't  raise  our  hopes  again  just 
to  disappoint  us !  " 

"  I  mean  it,"  he  reiterated.  "  I  want  your  uncle. 
With  his  help,  if  he  has  the  courage,  if  he  dare  face 
the  inevitable,  I'll  break  the  railway  strike  to-night 
and  the  coal  strike  to-morrow." 

She  sat  down  suddenly.  She,  too,  had  changed 
during  the  last  few  months.  Her  face  was  thinner; 
there  were  lines  under  her  eyes.  She  had  lost  some- 


350  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

thing  of  the  fresh,  delicate  splendour  of  youth  which 
had  made  her  seem  so  dazzling. 

"  I  can't  believe  that  you  are  in  earnest,'5  she  fal- 
tered. 

"  There  isn't  any  doubt  about  it,"  he  assured  her. 
"  Send  round  and  hurry  your  uncle." 

She  moved  to  the  writing-table  and  wrote  a  few- 
lines  hastily.  Then  she  rang  the  bell  and  gave  them 
to  a  servant.  She  was  still  without  a  vestige  of  colour. 

"  I  can't  dare  to  feel  hopeful,"  she  observed 
gloomily,  when  the  door  had  been  closed  and  they 
were  once  more  alone.  "  We  trusted  you  before, 
we  believed  that  everything  would  be  well.  You 
were  brutal  to  us  both  —  to  me  as  well  as  to  my 
uncle." 

"  I  made  no  promises,"  he  reminded  her.  "  I 
broke  no  ties.  I  was  a  people's  man;  I  still  am. 
I  took  the  course  I  thought  best.  I  thought  I  saw 
a  way  to  real  freedom." 

"  It  was  Maxendorf ! "  she  exclaimed,  under  her 
breath. 

He  nodded. 

"  Maxendorf  was  too  clever  for  me,"  he  confessed. 
"  Perhaps,  just  at  this  moment,  he  is  a  little  sorry 
for  it." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  hastily. 

Maraton   shrugged  his   shoulders. 

"  Oh,  he's  alive  —  only  just,  though !  I  shook  the 
life  nearly  out  of  him.  He  knows  that  if  we  fail 
within  these  next  twenty-four  hours,  your  uncle  and 
I,  I  am  going  to  take  what's  left.  I  promised  him 
that." 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  351 

Her  eyes  glowed. 

"  You  are  a  strange  person,"  she  declared.  "  How 
did  you  come  to  see  the  truth  —  to  know  that  you 
had  been  misled  by  Maxendorf  ?  " 

"  It  was  Selingman  who  told  me,"  he  explained. 
"  Selingman,  too,  was  deceived,  but  Selingman  was 
nearer  to  him.  He  discovered  the  truth  and  he  came 
to  me.  It  was  a  matter  of  two  hours  ago.  I  made 
my  way  first  to  Maxendorf.  I  remembered  my 
promise.  I  waited  about  in  the  corridors  outside  his 
room  until  I  saw  an  opportunity.  Then  I  slipped 
in  and  took  him  by  the  throat.  Oh,  he's  alive,  but 
not  very  much  alive  to-night !  " 

"  Tell  me  about  your  wonderful  journey  north?  " 
she  begged. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Just  at  present  it  is  like  a  nightmare,"  he  re- 
plied. "  We  went  from  place  to  place  and  I  preached 
the  new  salvation.  I  told  them  to  trust  in  me  and 
I  would  lead  them  to  the  light.  I  believed  it. 
Though  the  way  I  knew  must  be  strewn  with  diffi- 
culties, though  there  were  great  risks  and  much 
suffering,  I  believed  it.  I  saw  the  dawn  of  the 
millennium.  I  made  them  believe  that  I  saw  it. 
They  placed  their  trust  in  me.  I  have  led  them  to 
the  brink  of  God  knows  what!" 

"  You  have  led  them  to  the  brink  of  war,"  she 
said  gravely.  "  We  wait  for  its  declaration  every 
hour,  my  uncle  and  I.  They  know  our  plight.  They 
are  waiting  for  the  exactly  correct  minute." 

"  They  may  wait  a  day  too  long,"  Maraton  mut- 
tered. "  For  myself,  I  believe  that  they  have 


352  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

already  waited  a  day  too  long.  Maxendorf  was  too 
certain.  He  never  dreamed  that  I  might  learn  the 
truth.  Listen!" 

A  car  stopped  outside.  They  heard  the  sound 
of  footsteps  in  the  hall,  the  door  was  quickly  opened. 
Mr.  Foley  stood  there.  He  was  looking  very  grave 
and  white,  but  his  eyes  flashed  at  the  sight  of  Mara- 
ton. 

"  You !  "  he  exclaimed. 

He  gave  his  coat  and  hat  to  the  servant;  then  he 
closed  the  door  behind  him.  He  remained  standing 

—  he  offered  no  form  of  greeting  to  his  unexpected 
visitor. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Why 
have  you  come  to  me  ?  " 

"  To  give  you  your  chance,"  Maraton  replied,  with 
swift  emphasis.  "  You  are  the  only  statesman  I 
know  who  would  have  courage  to  accept  it.  Dare 
you?  " 

Mr.  Foley  remained  speechless.  He  stood  per- 
fectly still,  with  folded  arms. 

"  This  isn't  an  hour  for  recriminations,"  Maraton 
continued.  "  I  have  played  into  Maxendorf's  hands 

—  I  admit  it.     There's  time  to  checkmate  him.     I'll 
free  every  railroad  in  the  country  to-morrow,  and 
the  coal-pits  next  day,  with  your  help." 

"  I  have  forced  your  delegates  to  come  to  me," 
Mr.  Foley  answered.  "  To  all  my  offers  they  have 
but  one  reply:  they  await  your  word;  they  are  not 
seeking  for  terms." 

"  Accept  mine,"  Maraton  begged,  "  and  I  swear 
to  you  that  they  shall  consent.  Mind,  it  isn't  a 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  353 

small  thing,  but  it's  salvation,  and  it's  the  only  sal- 
vation." 

"  Go  on,"  Mr.  Foley  commanded. 

"  Pledge  your  word,"  Maraton  proceeded  deliber- 
ately, "  pledge  me  your  word  that  next  Session  you 
will  nationalise  the  railways  on  the  basis  of  three 
per  cent  for  capital,  a  minimum  wage  of  two  pounds 
ten,  a  maximum  salary  of  eight  hundred  pounds,  con- 
tracts to  be  pro  rata  if  profits  are  not  earned. 
Pledge  me  that,  and  the  railway  strike  is  over." 

"  It's  Socialism,"  Elisabeth  gasped. 

"  It's  common  sense,"  Mr.  Foley  declared.  "  I 
accept.  What  about  the  coal  ?  " 

"  You  don't  need  to  ask  me  that,"  Maraton  re- 
plied swiftly.  "  Our  coalfields  are  the  blood  and 
sinews  of  the  country.  They  belong  to  the  Govern- 
ment more  naturally  even  than  the  labour-made  rail- 
ways. Take  them.  Pay  your  fair  price  and  take 
them.  Do  away  with  the  horde  of  money-bloated 
parvenus,  who  fatten  and  decay  on  the  immoral 
profits  they  drag  from  Labour.  We  are  at  the 
parting  of  the  ways.  We  wait  for  the  strong  man. 
Raise  your  standard,  and  the  battle  is  already  won." 

"  And  you?  "  Mr.  Foley  muttered. 

"  I  am  your  man,"  Maraton  answered. 

Mr.  Foley  held  out  his  hand. 

"  If  you  mean  it,"  he  said  gravely,  "  we'll  get 
through  yet.  But  are  you  sure  about  the  others  — 
Ernshaw  and  his  Union  men  ?  We've  tried  all  human 
means,  and  Ernshaw  is  like  a  rock.  Dale  and  Gravel- 
ing and  all  the  rest  have  done  what  they  could. 
Ernshaw  remains  outside.  I  thought  that  I  had 


354  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

won  the  Labour  Party.  It  seems  to  me,  when  the 
trouble  came,  that  they  represented  nothing." 

"  They  don't,"  Maratoti  agreed,  "  but  Ernshaw 
represents  the  people,  and  I  represent  Ernshaw. 
He  was  with  me  only  a  little  time  ago.  There  won't 
be  a  Labour  Party  any  longer.  It  will  be  a  National 
Party,  and  you  will  make  it." 

"  I  am  an  old  man,"  Mr.  Foley  murmured  slowly, 
but  his  eyes  kindled  as  he  spoke. 

They  both  laughed  at  him. 

"  Young  enough  to  found  a  new  Party,"  Maraton 
insisted,  "  young  enough  to  bring  the  country  into 
safety  once  more." 

The  atmosphere  seemed  heavily  charged  with  emo- 
tion. Elisabeth's  eyes  were  shining.  She  held  out 
her  hands  to  Maraton,  and  he  kept  them  reverently 
in  his. 

"  To-night,"  he  announced,  "  with  Ernshaw's  help 
I  start  for  the  north.  In  a  few  hours  we  shall  have 
freed  the  railway  lines.  I  leave  the  Press  to  you, 
Mr.  Foley.  I  shall  go  on  to  the  mines." 

"  And  I?  "  Lady  Elisabeth  asked.  "  What  is  my 
share  ?  Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  ?  " 

Their  eyes  met  for  one  long  moment. 

"  When  I  return,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I  will  tell 
you." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

From  town  to  town,  travelling  for  the  most  part 
on  the  platform  of  an  engine,  Maraton  sped  on  his 
splendid  mission.  It  was  Ernshaw  himself  who  drove, 
with  the  help  of  an  assistant,  but  as  they  passed 
from  place  to  place  the  veto  was  lifted.  The  men 
in  some  districts  were  a  little  querulous,  but  at  Mara- 
ton's  coming  they  were  subdued.  It  was  peace,  a 
peace  how  splendid  they  were  soon  to  know.  By 
mid-day,  trains  laden  with  coal  were  rushing  to 
several  of  the  Channel  ports.  Maraton  found  his 
task  with  the  miners  more  difficult,  and  yet  in  a  way 
his  triumph  here  was  still  more  complete.  He 
travelled  down  the  backbone  of  England,  preaching 
peace  where  war  had  reigned,  promising  great  things 
in  the  name  of  the  new  Government.  Although  he 
had  been  absent  barely  forty-eight  hours,  it  was  a 
new  London  into  which  he  travelled  on  his  return. 
The  streets  were  crowded  once  more  with  taxicabs, 
the  evening  papers  were  being  sold,  the  shops  were 
all  open,  the  policemen  were  once  more  in  the  streets. 
Selingman,  who  had  scarcely  once  left  Maraton's  side, 
gazed  about  him  with  wonder. 

"  It  is  a  miracle,  this,"  he  declared.  "  There  is 
no  aftermath." 

"  The  people  are  waiting,"  Maraton  said.     "  We 


356  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

have  given  them  serious  pledges.  Their  day  is  to 
come." 

"  You  believe  that  Foley  will  keep  his  word  ?  " 
Selingman  asked. 

"  I  know  that  he  will,"  Maraton  replied.  "  As 
soon  as  the  Bills  are  drafted,  he  will  go  to  the  coun- 
try. It  will  be  a  new  Party  —  the  National  Party. 
Stay  and  see  it,  Selingman  —  a  new  era  in  the  poli- 
tics of  the  world,  a  very  wonderful  era.  The  country 
is  going  to  be  governed  for  the  people  that  are  worth 
while." 

"  If  one  could  but  live  long  enough ! "  Selingman 
sighed.  "  All  over  the  universe  it  comes.  Where 
was  it  one  read  of  footsteps  that  sounded  amongst 
the  hills  like  footsteps  upon  wool?  In  the  night- 
watches  you  can  hear  those  footsteps.  The  world 
trembles  with  them." 

"  And  after  all,"  Maraton  continued,  "  the  sun  of 
the  world's  happiness  is  made  up  of  the  happiness  of 
units.  Presently  we  shall  have  time  to  think  of  those 
things." 

"  It  is  true,"  Selingman  said  disconsolately.  "  I 
find  myself  rejoicing  in  the  good  which  is  coming 
to  humanity  and  forgetting  personal  sorrows.  There 
is  that  wonderful,  that  adorable  secretary  of  yours 
—  Julia.  What  should  you  say  to  me,  my  friend 
Maraton,  if  I  were  indeed  to  rob  you  of  her?  For 
once  I  am  in  earnest." 

Maraton  started  for  a  moment.  The  idea  at  first 
was  ludicrous. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  admitted,  "  I  should  reconcile 
myself  to  the  inevitable.  Times  are  going  to  be 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  357 

different.  I  dare  say  that  Aaron  will  be  the  only 
secretary  I  shall  need.  But  will  she  go?  Remem- 
ber, she  is  a  woman  of  the  people.  I  think  that  she 
will  never  settle  down,  even  with  your  splendid  work 
to  control.  She  is  less  a  poet  than  a  humanitarian." 

"  What  am  I,  man,"  Selingman  retorted,  striking 
himself  on  the  chest,  "  but  a  humanitarian  ?  Listen 
to  the  wonderful  proof  —  it  is  not  a  secretary  I  re- 
quire ;  it  is  a  wife ! " 

Maraton  was  staggered. 

"Have  you  told  her?" 

"  What  is  the  use?  "  Selingman  growled.  "  She  is 
yours,  body  and  soul.  You  have  but  to  lift  up  your 
finger,  and  she  would  follow  you  to  the  end  of  the 
world.  I  don't  idealise  women,  you  know,  Maraton, 
and  virtue  isn't  a  fetish  with  me.  But  I  know  that 
girl.  If  you  hold  out  your  hands,  she  is  yours,  but 
if  you  withhold  them,  she  is  the  most  virginal  crea- 
ture that  ever  breathed." 

"  She  is  a  splendid  character,"  Maraton  said 
softly. 

"  Why  don't  you  marry  her  yourself  ?  "  Selingman 
asked  abruptly.  "  How  can  you  look  at  her,  hear 
her  speak,  watch  her,  without  wanting  to  marry  her  ? 
What  are  you  made  of?  " 

Maraton  sighed. 

"  I  am  one  of  the  victims,  I  suppose,  of  that  curious 
instinct  of  selection.  I  care  for  some  one  else;  I 
have  cared  for  some  one  else  ever  since  the  first  night 
I  set  foot  in  England." 

"Then  I'll  get  her,"  Selingman  declared.  "In 
time  I'll  get  her." 


358  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

They  all  dined  together  at  the  little  restaurant 
on  the  borders  of  Soho.  Selingman  was  the  giver  of 
the  feast  and  his  spirits  were  both  wonderful  and 
infectious.  The  roar  of  London  was  recommencing. 
Newspapers  were  being  sold  on  the  streets.  The 
strange  cruisers  seemed  mysteriously  to  have  disap- 
peared from  the  Atlantic.  The  fleet,  imprisoned  no 
longer,  was  on  its  way  to  the  North  Sea.  There  was 
none  of  the  foolish,  over-exuberant  rejoicing  of 
bibulous  jingoism,  but  a  genuine,  deep  spirit  of 
thankfulness  abroad.  Men  and  women  were  glad 
but  thoughtful.  There  were  new  times  to  come,  great 
promises  had  been  made.  There  were  rumours  every- 
where of  a  new  political  Party. 

"  We  pause  to-night,"  Selingman  declared,  "  at 
the  end  of  the  first  chapter.  Almost  I  am  tempted 
to  linger  in  this  wonderful  country  —  at  any  rate 
untfl  the  headlines  of  the  next  are  in  type.  You 
go  down  to  the  House  to-night?" 

"  At  nine  o'clock,"  Maraton  replied,  glancing  at 
the  clock. 

"  Will  they  remember,"  Selingman  continued 
thoughtfully,  "  that  you  were  the  Samson  who  pulled 
down  the  pillars,  or  will  they  merely  hail  you  as  the 
deliverer?  Will  they  think  of  that  ghostly  ride  of 
yours  on  the  locomotive,  I  wonder,  when  you  tore 
screaming  through  the  darkness,  with  the  risk  of  a 
buffer  on  the  line  at  every  mile;  stepped  from  the 
engine,  grimy,  with  your  breath  sucked  out  of  you 
by  the  wind,  and  the  roar  of  the  locomotive  still 
throbbing  in  your  ears  —  stepped  out  to  deliver  your 
message  to  the  waiting  throngs?  Magnificent!  A 


A   PEOPLE'S    MAN  359 

subject  worthy  of  me  and  my  prose!  I  shall  write 
of  it,  Maraton.  I  shall  sing  the  glory  of  it  in  verse 
or  script,  when  your  fame  as  a  politician  of  the  mo- 
ment has  passed.  You  will  live  because  of  the  gar- 
land that  I  shall  weave." 

Maraton  sipped  his  wine  thoughtfully. 

"  But  for  your  overweening  humility,  Selingman," 
he  began  — 

Selingman  struck  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"  It  is  a  night  for  rejoicings,  this,"  he  thundered. 
"  I  will  not  have  my  weaknesses  exposed.  Let  us,  for 
to-night,  at  any  rate,  see  the  best  in  each  other. 
Glance,  for  instance,  at  Miss  Julia.  Admire  the  ex- 
quisite pink  of  my  carnations  which  she  has  conde- 
scended to  wear;  see  how  well  they  become  her." 

'*  I  feel  like  a  flower  shop,"  Julia  laughed. 

"  And  you  look  like  the  spirit  of  the  flowers  her- 
self," Selingman  declared,  "  the  wonderful  Power  on 
the  other  side  of  the  sun,  who  draws  them  out  of  the 
ground  and  touches  their  petals  with  colour,  shakes 
perfume  into  their  blossoms  and  makes  this  England 
of  yours,  in  springtime,  like  a  beautiful,  sweet-smell- 
ing carpet." 

"  Don't  listen  to  him,  Julia,"  Maraton  warned  her. 
"  It  was  only  a  month  ago  that  he  told  me  that  no 
civilised  man  should  live  in  this  country  because  of 
the  women  and  the  beer." 

"  A  man  changes,"  Selingman  insisted  fiercely. 
"  Your  beer  I  will  never  drink,  but  Miss  Julia  knows 
that  she  hasn't  in  the  world  a  slave  so  abject  as  I." 

Maraton  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  I  must  go,"  he  announced.     "  I  have  to  talk  with 


360  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

Mr.  Foley  for  a  few  minutes.  You  had  better  come 
with  me,  Aaron.  Selingman  will  see  Julia  back." 

They  watched  him  depart.  Julia  sighed  as  he 
passed  through  the  door. 

"  I  can  read  your  thoughts,"  Selingman  said 
quickly.  "  You  are  feeling,  are  you  not,  that  to- 
night his  leaving  us  has  in  it  something  allegorical. 
He  was  made  for  the  storms  of  life,  to  fight  in  them 
and  rejoice  in  them,  and  Fate  has  taken  him  by  the 
hand  and  is  leading  him  now  towards  the  quieter 
places." 

"  It  is  not  his  choice,"  Julia  murmured.  "  It  is 
destiny." 

"  Can't  you  look  a  little  way  into  the  future  ?  " 
Selingman  continued,  peering  through  half-closed 
eyes  into  his  wine  glass.  "  He  represents  the  only 
possible  link  between  the  only  possible  political  party 
of  this  country  and  the  people.  He  will  win  for 
them  in  twelve  months  what  they  might  have  waited 
for  through  many  weary  years.  He  will  sit  in  the 
high  places.  History  will  speak  well  of  him.  I  will 
wager  you  half  a  dozen  pairs  of  gloves  that  within  a 
week  the  Daily  Oracle  will  call  him  the  modern  Rienzi. 
And  yet,  with  the  end  of  the  struggle,  with  the  end 
of  the  fierce  fighting,  comes  something  —  what  is  it  ? 
—  disappointment?  We  have  no  right  to  be  disap- 
pointed, and  yet,  somehow,  one  feels  that  it  is  the 
cold  and  the  storm  and  the  wind  which  keep  the  best 
in  us  —  the  fighting  best  —  alive." 

Julia's  eyes  were  soft,  for  a  moment,  with  tears. 
She,  too,  was  following  him  a  little  way  into  the 
future. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  361 

"  They  will  make  a  politician  of  him,"  she  sighed. 
"  So  much  the  better  for  politics.  But  there  is  one 
thing  which  I  do  not  think  that  he  will  ever  forget. 
So  long  as  he  lives  he  will  be  a  people's  man." 

Selingman  became  curiously  silent.  Soon  he  paid 
the  bill. 

"  Will  you  put  me  in  a  cab  ?  "  she  asked  him  outside. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  shall  ride  home  with  you." 

"  It  is  rather  a  long  way,"  she  reminded  him.  "  I 
am  down  at  my  old  rooms  again.  The  house  in  Rus- 
sell Square  is  full  of  workmen,  after  the  fire." 

"  It  does  not  matter  how  far,"  he  said  simply. 

His  fit  of  silence  continued.  When  at  last  they 
arrived  at  their  destination,  she  held  out  her  hand. 
Again  he  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  coming  in,"  he  announced. 

She  hesitated. 

"  My  rooms  are  very  tiny." 

"  I  am  coming  in,"  he  repeated. 

He  followed  her  up  the  stairs.  Her  little  sitting- 
room  was  in  darkness.  She  struck  a  match  and  lit 
the  lamp.  She  would  have  pulled  down  the  blind,  but 
he  checked  her. 

"  No,"  he  objected,  "  let  us  stand  and  look  down 
together  upon  this  wilderness.  So !  " 

They  were  high  up  and  they  looked  upon  a  treeless 
waste  —  rows  of  houses,  tall  factories,  the  line  of  the 
river  beyond,  the  murky  glow  westwards. 

"  Here  I  can  talk  to  you,"  he  said.  "  Here  it  is 
silent.  Soon  I  go  back  to  my  life  and  my  life's  work. 
You,  Julia,  must  go  with  me." 


362  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

She  drew  a  little  away  from  him,  speechless  with 
a  queer  sort  of  surprise,  and  a  little  indignant.  He 
held  her  wrist  firmly. 

"  I  am  a  man  who  has  written  much  of  love,"  he 
continued,  "  of  love  and  life  and  all  the  tangled  skein 
of  emotions  which  make  of  it  a  complex  thing.  And 
yet  so  few  of  us  know  what  love  is,  so  few  of  us  know 
what  companionship  is,  so  few  of  us  know  the  world 
in  which  those  others  dwell.  You  have  looked  at  me 
with  your  great  eyes,  Julia,  and  at  first  you  saw 
nothing  but  a  fat,  plain  old  man,  with  plenty  of 
conceit  and  a  humour  for  idle  speeches.  And  to-day 
you  think  a  little  differently,  and  as  the  days  go  on 
you  will  think  more  differently  still,  for  I  am  going 
to  take  you  with  me,  Julia,  and  I  am  going  to  keep  you 
with  me,  and  I  am  going  to  keep  the  light  in  your 
eyes  and  the  laughter  at  your  lips,  in  the  only  way 
that  counts.  You  will  sit  with  me  in  my  study,  you 
shall  see  my  work  come  and  hear  it  grow.  I  shall 
take  you  into  the  world  where  the  music  is  born,  and 
your  eyes  will  be  closed  there,  and  you  will  only  know 
that  there  is  another  soul  there  who  is  your  guide, 
and  in  whom  you  trust,  and  for  whom  you  have  a 
strange  feeling.  That  is  how  love  comes,  Julia  — 
the  only  sort  of  love  which  lasts.  It  isn't  born  in 
this  land,  it  doesn't  even  flourish  in  this  universe.  If 
you  don't  come  up  in  the  clouds  to  find  it,  it  isn't  the 
sort  that  lasts.  You  are  going  to  find  it  with  me, 
dear." 

She  had  begun  to  tremble  a  little,  the  tears  were 
in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  I  know ! "  he  faltered,  with  a  break  in  his 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  363 

own  voice.     "  But  you'll  leave  your  sorrows  behind 
in  my  world." 

It  was  midnight  when  Maraton  left  the  House. 
He  came  out  with  Mr.  Foley,  and  they  stood  for  a 
moment  at  the  entrance.  An  electric  coupe"  rolled 
swiftly  up. 

"  You  must  come  home  with  me  for  a  minute  or 
two,  Maraton,"  Mr.  Foley  urged.  "  It  is  on  your 
way." 

The  coupe,  however,  was  already  occupied.  Elisa- 
beth leaned  out  of  the  window.  She  held  the  door 
open. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  Mr.  Maraton  back  with  me," 
she  insisted.  "  The  car  is  there  for  you,  uncle." 

Mr.  Foley  smiled. 

"  Quite  right,"  he  assented.  "  Get  in,  Maraton. 
I  shall  be  home  before  you." 

Maraton  obeyed,  and  they  glided  out  of  the  Palace 
yard. 

"  I  was  there  all  the  time,"  Elisabeth  told  him 
quietly.  "  I  heard  everything.  I  was  so  glad,  so 
proud.  Even  your  Labour  Members  had  to  come 
and  shake  hands  with  you." 

"  I  don't  think  Mr.  Dale  liked  it,"  he  remarked, 
smiling.  "  They  are  not  bad  fellows  at  heart,  but 
they've  got  the  poison  in  their  systems  which  seems, 
somehow  or  other,  to  become  part  of  the  equipment 
of  the  politician  —  self-interest,  over-egotism,  con- 
traction of  interest.  It  makes  one  almost  afraid." 

She  leaned  a  little  towards  him. 

"  You  will  not  fear  anything,"  she  whispered  confi- 


364  A   PEOPLE'S   MAN 

dently.  "  To-night,  as  I  looked  down,  it  seemed  to 
me  that  as  a  looker-on  I  saw  more,  perhaps,  of  the 
real  significance  if  it  all  than  you  who  were  there. 
It  is  a  new  force,  you  know,  which  has  come  into 
politics,  a  new  Party.  I  suppose  historians  will  call 
to-night,  the  fusion  of  Parties  which  is  going  to  hap- 
pen, an  extraordinary  triumph  for  Mr.  Foley.  Per- 
haps he  deserves  it  —  in  my  heart  I  believe  that  he 
does  —  but  not  in  the  way  they  would  try  to  make 
out." 

"  His  heart  is  right,"  Maraton  declared.  "  He  has 
wide  sympathies  and  splendid  understanding." 

"  It  is  a  new  chapter  which  begins  to-night,"  she 
repeated.  "  You  will  have  many  disappointments  to 
face,  both  of  you." 

"  But  isn't  it  a  glorious  fight !  "  he  exclaimed  en- 
thusiastically. "  A  great  cause  at  one's  back,  a 
future  filled  with  magnificent  possibilities!  Lady 
Elisabeth,"  he  went  on,  "  you  can't  imagine  what  this 
hour  means.  Sometimes  I  have  had  moments  of  hor- 
rible depression.  It  is  so  easy  to  feel  the  sorrows  of 
the  people  in  one's  heart,  so  easy  to  stir  them  into  a 
passionate  apprehension  of  their  position.  And  then 
comes  the  dull,  sickening  doubt  whether,  after  all,  it 
had  not  been  better  to  leave  them  as  they  were.  Of 
>  what  use  are  words  —  that  is  what  I  have  felt  so 
often.  And  now  there  has  come  the  power  to  do 
great  things  for  them.  Life  couldn't  hold  anything 
more  splendid." 

Her  hand  touched  his.  She  had  withdrawn  her 
glove. 

"  You  will  let  me  help  ?  "  she  begged. 


A   PEOPLE'S   MAN  365 

He  turned  towards  her  then,  and  she  saw  the  light 
in  his  face  for  which  she  had  longed.  With  a  little 
cry  her  head  sank  upon  his  shoulder,  and  his  arms 
closed  around  her. 

"I  am  almost  jealous  of  the  people,"  she  mur- 
mured. "  Only  I  want  you  to  teach  me  to  love  them 
and  feel  for  them  as  you  do.  I  want  to  feel  that 
the  same  thing  in  our  lives  is  bringing  us  always 
closer  together." 


THE  END 


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Mary  Regan.     By  Leroy  Scott. 

Master  Mummer,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Memoirs  of  Sherlock  Holmes.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Men  Who  Wrought,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Mischief  Maker,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Missioner,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Miss  Million's  Maid.     By  Berta  Ruck. 

Molly  McDonald.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Money  Master,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Money  Moon,  The.    By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

Mountain  Girl,  The.    By  Payne  Erskine. 

Moving  Finger,  The.     By  Natalie  Sumner  Lincoln. 

Mr.  Bingle.    By  George  Barr  McCutchepn. 

Mr.  Grex  of  Monte  Carlo.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Mr.  Pratt.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Mr.  Pratt's  Patients.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Mrs.  Belfame.    By  Gertrude  Atherton. 

Mrs.  Red  Pepper.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

My  Lady  Caprice.    By  Jeffrey  Farnol. 

My  Lady  of  the  North.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

My  Lady  of  the  South.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Mystery  of  the  Hasty  Arrow,  The.    By  Anna  K.  Green. 

Nameless  Man,  The.     By  Nataile  Sumner  Lincoln. 

Ne'er-Do- Well,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Nest  Builders,  The.    By  Beatrice  Forbes-Robertson  Hale. 

Net,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

New  Clarion.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Night  Operator,  The.    By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Night  Riders,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Nobody.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 

Okewood  of  the  Secret  Service.     By  the  Author  of  "The 

Man  with  the  Club  Foot." 
One  Way  Trail,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 
Open.  Sesame.     By  Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 
Otherwise  Phyllis.     By  Meredith  Nicholson. 
Outlaw.  The.    By  Jackson  Grecory. 


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Paradise  Auction.    By  Nalbro  Hartley. 

Pardners.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Parrot  &  Co.    By  Harold  MacGrath. 

Partners  of  the  Night.     By  Leroy  Scott. 

Partners  of  the  Tide.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Passionate  Friends,  The.    By  H.  G.  Wells. 

Patrol  of  the  Sun  Dance  Trail,  The.    By  Ralph  Connorf 

Paul  Anthony,  Christian.     By  Hiram  W.  Hays. 

Pawns  Count,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

People's  Man,  A.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Perch  of  the  Devil.     By  Gertrude  Atherton. 

Peter  Ruff  and  the  Double  Four.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Pidgin  Island.     By  Harold  MacGrath. 

Place  of  Honeymoon,  The.     By  Harold  MacGrath. 

Pool  of  Flame,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 

Postmaster,  The.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Prairie  Wife,  The.    By  Arthur  Stringer. 

Price  of  the  Prairie,  The.    By  Margaret  Hill  McCarter. 

Prince  of  Sinners,  A.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Promise,  The.    By  J.  B.  Hendryx. 

Proof  of  the  Pudding,  The.    By  Meredith  Nicholson. 


Rainbow's  End,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Ranch  at  the  Wolverine,  The.     By  B.  M.  Bower. 

Ranching  for  Sylvia.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Ransom.     By  Arthur  Somers  Roche. 

Reason  Why,  The.     By  Elinor  Glyn. 

Reclaimers,  The.     By  Margaret  Hill  McCarter. 

Red  Mist,  The.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Red  Pepper  Burns.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Red  Pepper's  Patients.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Rejuvenation  of  Aunt  Mary,  The.     By  Anne  Warner. 

Restless  Sex,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Return  of  Dr.  Fu-Manchu,  The.     By  Sax  Rohmer. 

Return  of  Tarzan,  The.     By  Edgar  Rice  Burroughs. 

Riddle  of  Night,  The.     By  Thomas  W.  Hanshew. 

Rim  of  the  Desert,  The.     By  Ada  Woodruff  Anderson. 

Rise  of  Roscoe  Paine,  The.    By  J.  C.  Lincoln. 

Rising  Tide,  The.    By  Margaret  Deland. 


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Rocks  of  Valpre,  The.    By  Ethel  M.  Dell. 

Rogue  by  Compulsion,  A.    By  Victor  Bridges. 

Room  Number  3.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Rose  in  the  Ring,  The.    By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Rose  of  Old  Harpeth,  The.     By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Round  the  Comer  in  Gay  Street.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Second  Choice.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Second  Violin,  The.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Secret  History.    By  C.  N.  &  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Secret  of  the  Reef,  The.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Seven  Darlings,  The.    By  Gouverneur  Morris. 

Shavings.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Shepherd  of  the  Hills,  The.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Sheriff  of  Dyke  Hole,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Sherry.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Side  of  the  Angels,  The.    By  Basil  King. 

Silver  Horde,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Sin  That  Was  His,  The.    By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Sixty-first  Second,  The.     By  Owen  Johnson. 

Soldier  of  the  Legion,  A.     By  C.  N.  &  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Son  of  His  Father,  The^.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Son  of  Tarzan,  The.    By  Edgar  Rice  Burroughs. 

Source,  The.    By  Clarence  Buddington  Kelland. 

Speckled  Bird,  A.    By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Spirit  in  Prison,  A.    By  Robert  Hichens. 

Spirit  of  the  Border,  The.     (New  Edition.)     By  Zane  Grey. 

Spoilers,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Steele  of  the  Royal  Mounted.    By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 

Still  Jim,    By  Honore"  Willsie. 

Story  of  FOBS  River  Ranch,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Story  of  Marco,  The.    By  Eleanor  H.  Porter. 

Strange  Case  of  Cavendish,  The.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Strawberry  Acres.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Sudden  Jim.    By  Clarence  B.  Kelland. 

Tales  of  Sherlock  Holmes.  By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 
Tarzan  of  the  Apes.  By  Edgar  R.  Burroughs. 
Tarzan  and  the  Jewels  of  Opar.  By  Edgar  Rice  Burroughs. 


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Tempting  of  Tavernake,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles.    By  Thos.  Hardy. 

Thankful's  Inheritance.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

That  Affair  Next  Door.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

That  Printer  of  Udell's.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright 

Their  Yesterdays.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Thirteenth  Commandment,  The.     By  Rupert  Hughes. 

Three  of  Hearts,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 

Three  Strings,  The.     By  Natalie  Sumner  Lincoln. 

Threshold,  The.    By  Marjorie  Benton  Cooke. 

Throwback,  The.    By  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 

Tish.    By  Mary  Roberts  Rinehart. 

To  M.  L.  G.;  or,  He  Who  Passed.    Anon. 

Trail  of  the  Axe,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Trail  to  Yesterday,  The.    By  Chas.  A.  Seltzer. 

Treasure  of  Heaven,  The.    By  Marie  Corelli. 

Triumph,  The.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

T.  Tembarom.     By  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett. 

Turn  of  the  TWe.    By  Author  of  "Pollyanna." 

Twenty-fourth  of  June,  The.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Twins  of  Suffering  Creek,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Two-Gun  Man,  The.    By  Chas.  A.  Seltzer. 


Uncle  William.    By  Jeannette  Lee. 

Under  Handicap.    By  Jackson  Gregory. 

Under  the  Country  Sky.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Unforgiving  Offender,  The.     By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Unknown  Mr.  Kent,  The.    By  Roy  Norton. 

Unpardonable  Sin,  The.    By  Major  Rupert  Hughes. 

Up  From  Slavery.     By  Booker  T.  Washington. 

Valiants  of  Virginia,  The.    By  Hallie  Ermine  Rives. 
Valley  of  Fear,  The.    By  Sir  A.  Conan  Doyle. 
Vanished  Messenger,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Vanguards  of  the  Plains.    By  Margaret  Hill  McCarter. 
Vashti.    By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 
Virtuous  Wives.     By  Owen  Johnson. 
Visioning,  The.    By  Susan  Glaspell. 


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Waif-o'-the-Sea.     By  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 

Wall  of  Men,  A.     By  Margaret  H.  McCarter. 

Watchers  of  the  Plans,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Way  Home,  The.    By  Basil  King. 

Way  of  an  Eagle,  The.    By  E.  M.  Dell. 

Way  of  the  Strong,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Way  of  These  Women,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

We  Can't  Have  Everything.    By  Major  Rupert  Hughes. 

Weavers,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

When  a  Man's  a  Man.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

When  Wilderness  Was  King.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Where  the  Trail  Divides.    By  Will  Lillibridge. 

Where  There's  a  Will.    By  Mary  R.  Rinehart. 

White  Sister,  The.     By  Marion  Crawford. 

Who  Goes  There?    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Why  Not.     By  Margaret  Widdemer. 

Window  at  the  White  Cat,  The.    By  Mary  Roberts  Rinehart. 

Winds  of  Chance,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Wings  of  Youth,  The.    By  Elizabeth  Jordan. 

Winning  of  Barbara  Worth,  The.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Wire  Devils,  The.     By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Winning  the  Wilderness.     By  Margaret  Hill  McCarter. 

Wishing  Ring  Man,  The.    By  Margaret  Widdemer. 

With  Juliet  in  England.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Wolves  of  the  Sea.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Woman  Gives,  The.    By  Owen  Johnson. 

Woman  Haters,  The.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Woman  in  Question,  The.    By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Woman  Thou  Gavest  Me,  The.     By  Hall  Caine. 

Woodcarver  of  'Lympus,  The.    By  Mary  E.  Waller. 

Wooing  of  Rosamond  Fayre,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 

World  for  Sale,  The.    By  Gilbert-Parker. 

Years  for  Rachel,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 

Yellow  Claw,  The.    By  Sax  Rohmer. 

You  Never  Know  Your  Luck.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Zeppelin's  Passenger,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 


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